Lugubrious

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

Lewa

For some time after the church turned out to be dead end, the Toa of Air just wandered Nieve. He didn't stumble around like a drunkard, overcome with despair, but the jungle ranger still lacked the urban experience to plot anything resembling a purposeful course through the city as he searched for Rayne the Knight Witch. Considering that the mage couldn't do much about the little one's condition during the cross-country trip, Lewa didn't exactly have high hopes that the news about the girl's heritage would allow Rayne to whip up a solution from nowhere, but any idea was better than none. Besides, he reasoned that the more he saw of human civilization, the less of a mystery their daily life would be to him. This line of logic turned his brisk stroll through Nieve into something of a tour, his bright green eyes wide open as he strove to observe every detail.

Not everyone liked having a 'golem' observe their day-to-day activities, but the average citizen didn't seem to mind Lewa as long as he maintained a respectful distance. He certainly got his fair share of curious stares as he walked around, what with the little girl in his arms at all. The questioning looks thrown Lewa's way almost amused him; these people had no idea just how happy he would be to be rid of this impossible burden. That said, the toa could not bring himself to resent the stolid fae enough to leave her in any danger, so unless he happened upon any magical orphanages (and learned about the whole concept of orphans in the process) his charge would stay right where she was. Of course, the possibility of Anne or another otherworlder taking revenge on him if the girl came to harm had not vacated his mind.

Together, the two of them observed all kinds of ordinary things, united in their lack of understanding. They watched couples argue, professionals like smiths and bakers at work, haggling at market stalls, inspections, artistic signs and lavish storefronts, and so forth. Lewa regretted that his unfortunate circumstances had dulled his sense of wonderment, last whetted when he set out to explore the jungles of Le-wahi for the first time. With death and devastation as his tutorial in this world, the sight of mundane, peaceful scenes set him at ease a little. Even if much of what Lewa saw seemed alien to him, he could also see elements of Matoran society at work here, too. Maybe this world and his own weren't as impossibly different as they first seemed. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about Mata Nui, and the Le-matoran. Their fate could hang in the balance right now, and here he was watching merchants arrange their produce.

Eventually, a little luck came Lewa's way. He happened to stumble into a couple of his fellow otherworlders outside a building known as the Mage's Guild. A local who'd heard a little of Lewa's plight had directed him this way in the hopes that the arcanists here could help him somehow, and the toa was happy to see some familiar faces. Unfortunately Rayne wasn't among them, but Anne was. Before he learned just how bad his prospects had been, he'd been aggrieved by what he viewed as sabotaging his efforts, but while he still felt a little annoyed by her presumptuousness, grudges just weren't in his nature. "Oh, hello," he greeted them, his manner subdued. "What have you all been up to?"

He followed along with the others, listening to the details of their assignment on the way. This group seemed a bit excessive for the task of fetching some materials, but it wasn't like Lewa had anywhere better to be. On the way, he explained what little he learned about the girl in his care--after trying to give her back to Anne, at least. "The person I met-spoke with said that she is a Fae, a long-lived being of a 'magical' nature," he told the others, the unfamiliar word strange on his lips. "She is not hurt-sick, but has something amiss spiritually. Would that a Turaga were around to speak-offer guidance." Nobody was more in-tune with the Great Spirit than each village elder. After a moment, he cleared his throat and continued, his tone a little more pointed. "I am not fit to be the caregiver-guardian of a normal child, let alone a Fae. Please do not leave one's wellbeing in my hands."

Eventually, the members of the group who knew where they were going led the rest to a certain street in the city's northernmost district, where they found the shop indicated by the woman named Serena. Unlike most of Nieve, where the scarcity of real estate made space a hot commodity, this establishment shared no walls with any neighboring structures. It also seemed...well, for lack of a better word, dead. Lewa couldn't make out any sign of light or human activity within its windows. Still, the impatient Remilia quickly admitted herself, albeit with an atypical expression. Something was evidently wrong. "Blood?" Lewa, naturally, couldn't smell anything. "I guess you're the one who'd know." He carefully stepped inside after her, peering around. Even here, people were getting hurt? "I thought this city-place was safe? Was there some kind of accident...?" His lime-green eyes scanned the darkness as he conducted a careful search for any signs of danger. While nothing suggested the presence of any enemies, and he didn't want to alarm any shopkeepers, his hand never wandered far from the shaft of his axe. After the centipede ambush days ago, he was determined to err on the side of caution.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Deep Blue Seaside: Mafia Town

Level 14 Ms Fortune (66/140)
@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @Yankee @Zoey Boey @Double @DisturbedSpec
Word Count: 1519

No matter how Juri sliced it, one versus eleven made for pretty bad odds. Under normal circumstances the martial artist would be more than capable of turning the tide against mooks of this caliber, then challenging Mabuchi herself, but Nadia’s sabotage really threw a wrench in the works. Thanks to the opportunistic interference of the feral Juri found herself taking extra hits while missing out on other opportunities, and it took no time at all for her frustration to reach its boiling point. Nadia couldn’t lie; seeing that she’d actually gotten under her rival’s skin gave her a sense of karmic satisfaction.

But not for long.

There was no denying that Juri deserved a little comeuppance. For the entire time they butted heads in Carnival Town, Nadia had been aware of the hooligan’s exploits. She beat people up, shook them down, and went out of her way to ruin everyone’s day, explicitly preferring to go after the weak and helpless. That probably went double after Nadia flew the coop, leaving her rival free to run amok though Carnival Town. And who could say what she’d been up to over the last week on the Mafia’s payroll? She wouldn’t put murder past Juri. But despite all that, once Nadia’s initial elation wore off, she wound up feeling rather…bad.

Maybe it was the look on Juri’s face, or the uncommonly genuine rancor behind her words, or the fact that these gangsters were really hurting her, but her rival’s misery quickly stopped bringing her joy. Nadia’s smiles and laughter weren’t always genuine to begin with, but now her mirth felt especially forced, and not even for a good reason. When the feral got sloppy and received a wheeling kick to the sternum, she took Juri’s advice and made herself scarce.

The Mafia Ball that followed was pretty funny, to be fair, but even once the super-sized circus act got underway Nadia kept her distance. Once the heat of the moment died out, she felt even worse about her disingenuous attempts to give Juri a taste of her own medicine. Sure, this syndicate showdown would probably have lasting repercussions for Mafia Town, but Nadia had no horse in this race. No matter which mobster sat in that chair, the townsfolk needed people like her to keep them safe–right now more than ever. She knew that she should’ve stayed down on the streets, safeguarding the citizens from those wrestlers. Or gone with Junior and Geralt to cut off the source. Anything but screw around up here.

I’m really no better than she is, Nadia thought.

Juri’s shouting drew her attention, and Nadia glanced at the Mafia Ball in time to see Mabuchi go flying from atop it. She proceeded to shout at the Mafia Boss, who gave her an indignant look of severe reproach, seemingly for daring to question him. “There are only two types of Mafia in the Mafia: goons, and the Boss!” He shouted down after her once she jumped down. “If you take the Boss’s money, you’re a goon, no better than any other! So don’t act like it!”

At that point Blazermate flew in from nowhere. Her arrival here wasn’t that much of a surprise given her reputation as a drama-seeking missile, but it did signal to Nadia that things were probably about to get out of hand. When the medabot discharged her built-in Kritzkrieg into the big boss’s Mafia Ball, turning the circus act into a wrecking ball of wanton destruction, Nadia took that as a sign to leave. As she slunk out, she passed by that darkly-clothed rogue on the way in. Had he been waiting in the wings the whole time? She didn’t know what he wanted here, but that didn’t concern her, either. After skirting around him, the cat burglar sprinted through the casino and out into the night.

By the time the newcomer got close enough to scope out the scene, the situation had really devolved into pandemonium. Half of Mabuchi’s men had already been flattened by the amped-up Mafia Ball, and for those still on their feet, avoiding it had become a full-time activity. That went for Mabuchi himself, as well. Though his guandao could deal grievous injuries, and his counter stance slowed down the fight, Juri was getting the better of him as he struggled to stay ahead of the Mafia Ball. Without his healer, the damage just kept piling up, and eventually Juri managed to hurl him straight into a knockout blow from the newcomer. Mabuchi’s weapon clattered to the floor as the man was down for the count.

“Good!” the boss yelled. The Mafia Ball promptly fell apart, its constituents tumbling everywhere. Chrom and Rosanna extracted themselves from the heap, then furiously began to fix their hair and clothes. A number of their comrades remained piled beneath the boss, forming an impromptu throne. “That’s what happens when you mess with the Mafia!” he barked at the groaning gangster. He pushed his cleavers together into their rolling pin storage mode. “Men. Take him away.”

After dismissing Mabuchi with a wave of his hand, he frowned at the newcomer, Juri. “As for you…” Disregarding the usual method of transfer, he reached into his pocket to pull out a big fistful of pons, then tossed them the Spider’s way. They tumbled across the floor, spread out fairly wide. It would take a minute or two of scrounging to recover them all while the whole Mafia watched. “Take it. You’ve earned it.”

Once the Seekers departed for the cargo ship, Bancho Sushi lay in quiet disarray, with only Bancho himself around to witness the disaster. It would take thousands of pons, if not tens of thousands, to undo the damage done to all his wooden furniture, his pantry, the decor, and so forth. Even the fish tank lay in glassy ruins, the last of today’s catch flopping around in the wreckage until Bancho tossed the critters overboard. For someone who prided himself on order, tidiness, and professionalism, this was a true debacle. But the stolid man never complained. After a few minutes, he found his broom amidst the chaos, and began to sweep. Unfortunately, the sushi chef and his establishment weren’t out of the woods just yet.

A loud, sudden slam outside drew Bancho’s attention. When he sidled over to the front of his restaurant for a discreet check, he saw the aftermath of a wrestler-on-wrestler bout. A strong, one-eyed lady wrestler with orange-yellow hair like a microfiber duster, wearing black snakeskin, had just powerbombed a now-dissolving competitor off a building. No sooner had the victor taunted than she set off looking for her next opponent, but by now the pickings seemed slim. As far as Bancho could tell, the Battle Royal Rumble had more or less run its course. At the same time, that meant that only the strongest few remained, and the sushi chef just so happened to have the misfortune of catching the wrestler’s eye.

“There you are! Get yourself ready, ‘cause you’re up against the one. The only. Sunrise Nishisenba!” The lady jogged over with a cocky grin. Bancho retreated, climbing over the wreckage of his tables and bar, but his pursuer elected to go straight through. “Lariat!” Fists outstretched, Nishisenba began to spin, gathering golden energy. “Tequilaaaaaa!” With his eyes on his attacker, Bancho wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, and stumbled over a barstool. Just as the wrestler went to unleash her power, however, an electric blur appeared in front of her.

“SUNS- WAGH!” Her special move struck Nadia’s Blue Monday Counter, resulting in a knee to Nishisenba’s gut that launched her into the air. “HOOGH!” Nadia blasted out blood to propel herself forward in a diving grab that tackled the wrestler through the window and into the dock outside.

With the breath driven from her lungs, Nishisenba could only lay there as Nadia rolled to her feet, then swung her arm in an accelerating circle. “Lemme pass you a JOINT!” She fell on her foe with an elbow drop that left Nishisenba stunned, then hopped to her feet once again. “Whew! Sorry lady, but the restaurant’s closed! If you’re hungry, though, you can eat this!” Nadia jumped and landed on the wrestler with her mantreads, smashing her through the dock and into the briny shallows.

After barely managing to grab onto the side of the new hole and clamber up, the catgirl rolled over and let out a sigh of relief. When she opened her eyes, Bancho was standing over her. “You didn’t have to do all that. You okay?”

“Yeah!” Nadia grinned. “I should be askin’ you. When you brought me on tonight, you Ban-chose wisely!”

The sushi chef smiled, then held out his hand. “Mm-hm.” He tried to help pull Nadia to her feet, only to realize that she was almost three times as heavy as she looked. After letting him struggle for a moment Nadia picked herself up with a laugh, then followed her friend inside to help him clean up.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Sandswept Sky: Skyworld

@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @Yankee @Double @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

Once regrouped and refueled, the Army of Light made the final fateful push in their battle to cleanse the sky-high holy land from the scourge of corruption once and for all. The final island in the corrupted chain awaited them, darkly ominous even in the light of day, an unflinching and unyielding bastion of unwellness. The land here was sick, a plague-ridden agglomeration of irreparably tainted soil, scabrous outcrops, and night-dark buboes swollen with bilious yellow ichor, eerily silent until the Infernal Train chugged into view. That crawled through pitch-black tunnels and clung to crumbling precipices, a titanic centipede of stone and steel, its legs screaming wheels, its carapace of pointed arches and flying buttresses. It belched out vile smog from its spiraled smokestacks as it ran its sordid route ad nauseam, a perpetual motion war machine. Its mere existence seemed to be a blight on the face of creation itself, permitted to endure for far too long. Today, as attested by the beat of snow-white wings and the chorus of courageous voices, this profane pestilence would come to an end.

As one might expect, though, the first step was a doozy. Even attacking the Infernal Train posed a daunting challenge. The execrable machine moved constantly, faster than most of Skyworld’s angels could fly, so Palutena’s forces would run out of stamina long before their enemy ran out of minions. If the angels threw themselves into the train, though, they would be at the mercy of the virtually limitless monstrosities on board, not to mention intolerably impure surroundings that all but guaranteed corruption. Finally, a fight on the train’s exterior came with a strict time limit, as none of the island’s tunnels offered the necessary amount of clearance. Fortunately, the angels’ commanders had come up with an alternative. As Pit led his powerful new allies onto the train, his elite strike force sure to stir the hornets’ nest, Uriel spread her troops out along the tracks, where they’d hover beyond the wretches’ reach. When the train passed by, they’d swoop in with blade and arrow, not just to strike the foul things down but to goad them away from the train en masse. With Nathaniel and Fodoquia spearheading this operation to ensure its success, the multitudinous horrors would be diverted from Uriel and the Seekers, allowing them to fight through a much more manageable horde and get straight to the heart of the matter.

After all, everything learned so far by Celia’s scouts indicated that in all its manifestations, each instance of corruption stemmed from a singular source. Once the strike team cut off the head, the body would die.

When the Seekers approached with Ortho in the lead, the train itself seemed to register the threat. A repugnant slurry of congealed corruption erupted from its windows as the angelic beast approached, each volley of volatile ejecta akin to a miniature army’s worth of crossbow bolts. Ortho was nothing if not agile though, and when he dropped off Edelgard and Roxas, the Seekers’ assault began. With the help of Uriel’s near-lightspeed swordplay, amplified by her Dawnbreaker blade and explosive holy light spikes, the boarding party chewed through the Infernal Train’s welcoming committee. After a liberal application of might and magic, the team breached the contraption’s gothic exterior, and forged into the belly of the beast.

Indeed, stepping into the corruption’s stronghold felt like being eaten by some aberrant monstrosity. While the outside at least resembled conventional architecture, the inside was crusted in tarry black corruption, old, hard, and littered with yellow crystalline deposits. It was hot, humid, and loud; many of the noises that reached the intruders sounded disturbingly biological. A foil smell filled their noses and lungs, and they instinctively knew that they’d need to work fast. It wasn’t dark, though, thanks to the countless slitted yellow eyes embedded in the walls. Whether feeding what they saw to some sort of central intelligence or not, they stared and stared and stared, the unwholesome glare of their sclera lighting the way.

Even with the Army of Light’s efforts to draw the bulk of the corrupted out of the train, the Seekers encountered staunch resistance. Again and again they found themselves assailed by malignant masses of limbs, mouths, and machinery, many with cannons as well as claws. With no two monsters alike, unpredictability proved to be their greatest weapon, but for the most part these wretches favored quantity over quality. Uriel wasted no words on them, keeping her lips pursed in perennial disgust as her brilliant blade danced in the dark. Together the Seekers cleared room after room, and with only so much real estate between their entry point and the train’s locomotive, it wasn’t long before they reached their final destination.

The cathedral that formed the front of the train was the grandest by far, its interior more spacious than the rest. Much like in the Ivory Citadel, this sanctum contained a figurehead of corruption in the form of an individual rather than some bloated, pulsating organ, but the being that stood before the Seekers was no Legion, long since overtaken and reduced to a hollow vessel. Instead they found themselves confronted by a towering warrior, about twelve feet tall. The corruption that formed his skin was masterfully woven, stretched over bulging muscles and odd blue crystal spikes, especially around his deformed left arm. Corrupted tendrils extended from his back, but he wore runic graves of obvious quality, along with a barbaric helmet. In his right hand he clutched an axe of terrifying size and appearance, its blade a skull-faced slab and its shaft lined with eyes. And though he seemed less far gone than the monsters that dwelled in this place, the corruption practically wept from him. He breathed its odious vapors from his toothy maw, and it was the heart that beat in his chest, surfaced in the form of blindly gazing eyes. This was the corruption’s source.

“The Avatar of Chaos,” Uriel hissed, tightening her grip on her sword. “Absalom.”

“No…” the warrior growled, hefting his axe Absolution onto his shoulder. “I am Corruption. And soon…you will be, too.” Absalom roared and swung his axe, hurling corrupt land mines far and wide.

Forbidden Kingdom: Meridi-at-Han

Level 8 Goldlewis (92/80) Level 2 Grimm (2/20)
@Yankee @Archmage MC @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @Drifting Pollen
Word Count: 2024

Among the shadows cast by the sinister glow of scarlet torches, the fervid foxtrot between Grimm and the Witch continued. They leaped and twirled, every move more intense than the last as the dancers strove to take one another’s breath away. It didn’t matter how many concerned onlookers their increasingly unsubtle dance enthralled, these two only had eyes -and flames- for one another. Maddened by the light of Galeem that smoldered in the coals of their eyes, this wildfire would burn until only ash remained.

Yet even as the flow of battle grew fiercer, just like a river winding toward a waterfall, it also steered toward an inescapable conclusion. While Grimm put his best foot forward, his injured leg held him back, and with an inexplicably limited repertoire of moves at his disposal he could not give his performance the variety it needed to keep his counterpart on her toes. Each splash of blood torn from his body by the Witch’s magic was one he wouldn’t get back, while her veil of enchantments gave her own vitality a buffer that proved vitally important. Second by second, it became increasingly clear to the spectators that the Troupe Master was falling behind, unable to span the widening gulf between his condition and the Witch’s. Even then, though, the Grimmkin did not interfere. If anything, their unintelligible chatter grew more frenzied, each masked specter bobbing up and down in excitement. Other members of the Grimm Troupe like Brumm, Divine, and the Shadows lacked their macabre glee, but they still watched with intense interest. Many of these bugs had seen this song and dance before, after all. They knew what the Witch didn’t–that the defeat of the Troupe Master wasn’t an end, but a beginning.

Dozens of eager eyes watched, dying to know what would happen next, as Grimm’s health neared the one-third mark. This time, once he burst into a swarm, the Witch knew to descend on those bugs like a starving bat. It was the point of no return, and having smelled her opponent’s blood, she knew it. While the others stood back and watched, however, one observer took action. In an act of charity, and to repay the Troupe Master for his earlier assistance, Roland took the dance floor and inserted himself into the melee.

Of course, when an uninvited guest appeared in the midst of his two-person tango to impede him, Grimm couldn’t fathom that the man meant to help him. Instead he lashed out, angered by this impudent interruption in his time-honored ritual. Whether this man meant to interfere on the Witch’s behalf or merely acted out of wanton irreverence, Grimm would not spare him; once could not throw oneself into the flames and expect to escape unburnt. Instead of Roland’s throat, however, Grimm’s claws met his staff-sized paintbrush. The Fixer deftly parried him, then in that moment of vulnerability, locked him down in the grip of shadowy tendrils. Grimm struggled drunkenly, his slender frame possessed of surprising strength, but before he could break loose Roland endowed him with more freedom that he could ever have possibly imagined.

In an instant the Troupe Master’s violent energy left him, and as Roland’s tentacles receded Grimm slumped to his knees, his cape spread out around him like the webbing of a vampire squid. His head hung forward, his scarlet eyes unfocused, but devoid of Galeem’s delirious luster. Thanks to the Friend Heart his head was clear, and his injuries were gone. In an instant, all the incremental progress made by the Witch had been erased. She still wanted him dead, of course, but Roland stood by to prevent further damage while Primrose stepped up to attend to the Witch herself. In the span of just a few short moments, the fiery dance of death had been cut short. All around the Grimmkin gibbered and chittered in a mixture of confusion and disappointment, some floating over to check on Grimm while most simply faded away into the dark of night. Regardless of how it happened, it seemed that the show was over.

As the apparitions drifted away and the scarlet flames subsided, the abandoned market lost its fearsome, fiendish aspect. The dark shadows that cavorted so evilly shrank back to how they should be, while the hissing, swollen flames of the candles and torches surrendered their uncanny synchronicity. High overhead the wind picked up, and the stars twinkled once more. Cowed crickets and cicadas in the vicinity mustered their courage to fill the dead air with nightsong, and Brumm soon joined them with his organic xylophone to try and restore the festival atmosphere. Meridi-at-han citizens began to drift back toward the scene, and after another moment Grimm rose to his feet, his head raised. If Roland still felt apprehensive about Grimm going ape once freed of Galeem’s grasp, the silent bow directed his way would assuage his worries. That said, Grimm wasn’t quite finished with the Witch yet. Even if their dance hadn’t reached its thrilling conclusion, their ritualistic duel -performed in ignorance or otherwise- had borne fruit. With deliberate slowness, Grimm extended a hand from beneath his cloak and snapped his fingers. About a foot away, scarlet flames began to gather, as if filtering through into the material plane from some infernal netherworld. When they coalesced, the Troupe Master was no longer alone.

For Grimm

New ability:
Grimmchild
An floating insectoid apparition that Grimm can summon or absorb as desired. It cannot take damage, but is able to open its mouth and spit scarlet fireballs that deal low damage. In Grimm’s vicinity, the bad dreams of others will manifest as Nightmare Flames, and the Grimmchild can eat them. Every three times its fed, the Grimmchild will grow stronger, maxing out at nine meals. Once fully fed, a new Ability will be available for purchase to Grimm. The Grimmchild can also be assigned a chaperone that it will follow and assist in battle. It can whisper to Grimm what it sees

An insect floated next to him on six black ribbon wings, with a shell as black and a mask as white as Grimm’s own. For a moment the Troupe Master just stared at it, but he soon turned toward the Witch and offered her another bow. ”Bravo, my friend. Did you hear how the crowd adored you? They’ve not seen such a show in a long time.” His razor-sharp whisper featured a faint air of smugness, as if the opponent he fought so fiercely had done him an important service. ”Look here. How our child has grown, nourished and strengthened by the heat of our passionate dance.” His gaze lingered on the Witch, but after another second or two he held out his cape, and the Grimmchild darted beneath it. ”Our dance remains incomplete. It may be some time before the Ritual is finished. Later, perhaps, the stars will be right for another dance. Our scarlet eyes will watch you keenly…friend.”

With that, the conflict seemed to be defused. Still tense even after the fighting stopped, Goldlewis finally let out a sigh of relief. Given the potential volatility of this situation, he’d been happy to leave breaking up this battle in Roland and Primrose’s capable hands. If he’d been forced to step in, he doubted that things would’ve been wrapped up so neatly. His coffin was many things, but a precision instrument it was not, and for all the veteran’s strength, Grimm seemed liable to slip through his grasp like smoke between his fingers. “Whoo-whee.” He shook his head. “I dunno what in sam hill had y’all scrappin’ so bad, but I ain’t sorry to see it over with. As if burnin’ that doggone tent down wasn’t bad enough, y’all were fixin’ to burn the whole dadgum market to the ground in the crossfire. Downright irresponsible, ‘specially when the city’s dealin’ with a damn monster attack, good Lord. I reckon you’ve done enough playin’ with fire for one evenin’.”

When Grimm just stared at him wordlessly, Goldlewis looked away and rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, anyhow, we probably oughta give y’all the rundown on the way things are, seein’ as you ain’t gleamin’ any more. Why don’t we-”

Without warning a blue sigil flared to life next to the veteran’s head, and a deadpan, proper-sounding female voice rang out through the area. “Attention Mustang, this is Halo, please copy, over.”

“Gah!” The sudden voice startled Goldlewis, who flinched away from the noise like someone might a gunshot. It took Grimm by surprise too, all the more cause for concern because the Troupe Master didn’t know what he was looking at. He blinked, confused, then looked around as if hoping for an explanation. Once Goldlewis rolled his eyes, shaking his head, Grimm seemed to understand that this outburst wasn’t anything to be worried about, and after heaving a deep sigh the veteran put two fingers to the glyph to reply. “Yeah, I copy, Halo. You called at one hell of a time, lemme tell ya. We just wrapped up a surprise attack from three giant monsters. Ended up freein’ a couple…” Looking at Grimm, ‘civvy’ didn’t feel like the right word. “A couple locals as well. Over.”

The woman on the other end of this supernatural phone line seemed unfazed by the news. “Everyone’s in good condition, I trust. Over.”

“Uh huh.” Goldlewis crossed his arms, staring off into the starry heavens. “So how’re things lookin’ up there? Been meanin’ to get in touch. We’ve done just about all we can down here, so I’m thinkin’ it’s about time we scheduled some kinda pickup. Uh, over.”

“Agreed. The Avenger is en route to Meridi-at-han as we speak. Please proceed outside city limits and notify me once you’re clear. I’ll join you there.” The operator paused. “Should I bring any additional Fulton devices? Over”

Goldlewis had already started to motion for Primrose, Roland, and Zenkichi to follow him in the direction of the city’s main gate, as if they hadn’t heard his contact’s instructions for themselves. When questioned, though, the veteran paused to narrow his eyes in the direction of Grimm and the Witch. “I’ll let you know when we reach exfil. Might have some explainin’ to do on the way.”

For a moment there was radio silence. Then the lady on the other end spoke tentatively. “Over?”

“Huh?” Goldlewis furrowed his brow.

“You didn’t say ‘over’,” the operator informed him, her tone matter-of-fact.

Goldlewis grunted in a guess we’re doing this again kind of way, then set off at a brisk trot. “Hey, you didn’t either.”

“I did,” the voice insisted. “All my communications ended with ‘over’. Including that one.” She paused. “Over.”

“This conversation is over.” With a wave of his hand Goldlewis dismissed the magic sigil, then rolled his eyes again. “That woman, I swear,” he joked affectionately.

As the team got underway, carefully navigating through the night-shrouded plateau city as it licked its wounds from the giants’ rampage, Goldlewis became aware of a spindly figure tailing him. The scarlet light of Grimm’s eyes as he drifted from shadow to shadow indicated that the Troupe Master had accepted his invitation. Goldlewis slowed his pace, allowing the other Seekers to take the lead in order to fall in alongside the potential initiate. He still didn’t know quite what to make of Grimm, who seemed dangerous and eccentric even by Seeker standards, but if the big bug wanted to know more about the campaign against Galeem, Goldlewis wasn’t going to disappoint him. And if he signed up, he wouldn’t even be the first oversized insect on the roster, anyway. “Howdy there, partner. We ain’t been formally introduced, have we? My name’s Goldlewis Dickinson, and this here team’s just a small part of the Seekers of Light–the light bein’ Galeem, and when we get done seekin’ ‘im, there ain’t gonna be anythin’ left.”

Grimm digested the man’s summary impassively, then whispered his reply. ”Go on.”

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Deep Blue Seaside: Mafia Headquarters

Level 14 Ms Fortune (63/140)
@Zoey Boey @DisturbedSpec
Word Count: 1053

Nadia hadn’t expected her unannounced arrival to lead to any tearful reunions, but true to form her nemesis never missed a beat when it came to putting the cat burglar down. When Juri mentioned a schoolgirl crush in that disingenuous drawl of hers, she earned herself a hearty snort of derision. “You flatter yourself,” Nadia told her, hands on her hips. Anyone else squaring up to face off against ten armed men might have courted some backup a little more tactfully, but naturally the same hooligan who assumed herself a Consul’s equal wouldn’t think she needed any help against a force like this. Thanks to that repellent attitude of hers, Juri was about to bite off a lot more than she could chew.

A slight, almost imperceptible sound made the feral’s ear twitch, and just to be safe Nadia cast a quick glance back the way she came. For a moment she didn’t see anything, but her keen eyes quickly picked up on furtive movement in the shadows of the theater’s main entrance. She realized that someone else was here, a man judging by the partial silhouette against the backlight of the casino down the hall. For a brief moment she peered his way, the electric blue irises of her feline peepers subtly aglow, like a plasma TV screen. Had he tailed her here, turning the follower into the followed? Admittedly the lion’s share of her focus had been on her own quarry, but this man must be good to have evaded her notice until now.

Unfortunately, Juri didn’t give her much time to think about the stealthy stranger’s presence. The mouthy martial artist’s latest taunt made Nadia’s decision for her. As Juri restarted the brawl by throwing herself into battle, the feral bared her teeth in an evil smile. She wasn’t allergic to fun or money by any means. “Just you,” she hissed.

In the chaos that followed Juri’s assault, Mabuchi’s whole entourage got mixed up in the melee. With so much jostling, getting a clean shot on the guandao-wielding gangster would be a challenge even for the likes of Snake, and things were only getting more wild from here. Nadia dashed in behind Juri, a grin on her face. “Here, lemme give you a hand!” Using pressurized blood she launched her hand like a grappling hook on a rope of corded muscle fiber, grabbing hold of Juri’s calf. Then the shameless saboteur tugged in an attempt to yank Juri off her feet and send her sprawling. “Enjoy the trip, nyahaha!” As the fight with Mabuchi’s minions continued, Nadia would interfere again and again, messing with Juri as much as possible. Grappling with her extendable limbs was just the beginning; she’d also try to create slicks using her own blood, use Charge to blitz through her, and so forth, even if she took a retaliatory hit or two in so doing. If really turned on, she would flee to give the henchmen the chance to attack, then return with infuriating purr-sistence a few moments later. And of course, if her rival abandoned the mobsters’ feud to give Nadia her full attention, the feral would happily oblige. That cocky thug was overdue for a well-deserved beatdown, after all, but even if she gave up on the gangsters, Galeem’s influence meant that the men she attacked wouldn’t be so quick to return the favor.

Especially compared to the pushovers that constituted the bulk of the Mafia of Cooks, Mabuchi’s men weren’t exactly easy pickings. Of the eight still on their feet, one wielded a knife, one a hammer, three had claw weapons, and two had guns, a pistol and a shotgun respectively. The last one, the most well-built and well-equipped of the bunch, actually brandished a surfboard. While the others attacked on Mabuchi’s behalf, the aquanaut used Beachside Bro-BQ to manifest a portable grill laden with skewered a’awa. When he hoisted the Hawaiian hogfish into the air, his whole team received a burst of health that allowed his two lacerated comrades to get to their feet and continue the fight. If everyone seemed capable enough, the aquanaut would happily switch from support to offense and unleash wide-ranging water-aspected attacks with flippers, frozen tuna, or his surfboard.

For a little while the Mafia Boss just stared at the mayhem unfolding beneath him, mouth slightly ajar. When it became clear that Juri wouldn’t be able to turn the tide in his favor with Nadia on her case, however, he ground his teeth in frustration. “Fine, I’ll do it myself!” He began to spin with blades extended, whirling like a top toward the mob. In response, Mabuchi disentangled himself from the melee and took a defensive stance. When the boss struck him, he struck back with a Resolute Counter, but the slash seemed to enrage the boss more than anything. “Bow down!” He leaped back toward his throne, then threw himself into another wild revolution. “Super charge!” Lightning flashed and sparks flew across the floor, but his opponent evaded them one by one. By the time that the boss got too dizzy to spin anymore, Mabuchi was close enough to extend a Petal Blossom Kick and knock the boss back, his defense reduced.

Flames seemed to dance around the boss as he yelled in anger, swinging his arms and stamping his feet. “Enough games!” He roared. “Mafiaaaaaaaaaaaaa…!” At his summons, all the Mafia goons scattered across the island suddenly and inexplicably flew his way, phasing through solid matter in order to pile up beneath his feet. This included Chrom, Rosanna, and -much to her chagrin- Juri. After just a second, so many underlings had clumped together that their bodies formed a giant sphere beneath him. “BALL!”

To Nadia, the spectacle was as incredible as it was hilarious. “No. Freaking. Way.”

Rosanna’s exasperated voice issued from somewhere within the sphere. “I hate it when he does this…” Chrom just groaned, hoping that nobody saw her in such a reputation-ruining stunt.

Gleefully unbothered, the boss began to roll the huge ball around to crush his enemies beneath his organization’s weight. Mabuchi managed to duck around it and then grab hold of the backside, making his way toward the top of the ball to challenge the boss swashbuckler-style. Nadia made a run for it, cackling all the while, as the usurper’s henchman tried in vain to fight the dreaded Mafia Ball.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Deep Blue Seaside: Mafia Town

Level 14 Ms Fortune (61/140)
@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @Yankee @Zoey Boey @Double @DisturbedSpec
Word Count: 2128

In the span of just a few moments, Mafia Town was in chaos. Almost a hundred brutish adrenaline junkies of all shapes and sizes, fueled by energy drinks and Mooscles shakes, had rained down across the island city. Eager to be the last man standing, the menagerie of maniacs quickly filled beaches, wharves, rooftops, and streets alike with their violent, theatrical antics. Mafia stooges and hapless citizens alike found themselves irish whipped, sumo slapped, and spear tackled. As she squared off against her newest opponent, though, Nadia tried to tune the rest of the mayhem out. Even if her journey had made her a better team player, after all, this cat burglar always did her best fighting one-on-one. And if that high-visibility hero she dumped into the drink was any indicator, these wanton wrestlers would be easy pickings.

Or so she thought.

Nadia charged forward on all fours, pumping blood in her legs, then released the pent-up pressure to boost into the air. “Careful!” she called down to Bass, popping her head off to use Cat Spike. “I’m always one step a-head!” When she smacked it down with her palm, her head buzzed toward him like a calico circle saw. Bass lifted a strong arm to smack it down, but with her foe’s focus on the projectile, Nadia then flung herself after it in a blood-propelled airdash. The collision between head and hand forced the wrestler to recoil, so even as her head plopped to the ground, Nadia’s body descended on him to start a combo.

“Somer better than others!” From a quick cross slash she somersaulted Into a El Gato axe kick that left Bass doubled over long enough that she could jet her head over and hit him low to keep the combo going. “How’s this for uppsies-ing?” From there she turned her back to stretch her leg upward for a Limber Up launcher, smacked her head with a light kick to get it into position, then wheeled around to nail her foe with a Flying Screen Door reverse overhead kick. Thanks to her setup, her head could then restand him with a quick chomp, and that command grab gave her body more than enough time for a finisher. “Omnomnomnom! Think you got a chance?” she taunted with her mouthful as she used Fluffy Soft to transform her right arm. It swelled in size as stripy fur covered it, turning it into the fearsome limb of a white tiger. “Fur-get it!”

Bass tumbled backward into the wall of Seaside Spaghetti, groaning. Nadia shot him a grin as her arm shifted back, then charged forward, eager to keep up the pressure. Her adrenaline got the better of her, though, and she attacked early, mistiming her meaty. With an angry grunt Bass stepped off-axis, then planted his fist in Nadia’s belly with a terrific lunge punch, his full weight behind it. “GUH!” Spittle flew from the feral’s mouth as she shot backward, eyes and mouth wide open. She hit the ground and skidded atop her rigging pack, her legs only limply flopping down once she came to a stop at the dock’s edge. “Oof. Guess I’m not the only one with a punchline,” she groaned. Her respite came to an end when she spotted Bass barreling toward her, so like an idiot she hopped up and tried to challenge him with a claw swipe. Instead she ate a shoulder barge that made her see stars. Bass stomped the ground for effect, flexing, then walloped her with a massive lariat straight to the chin that sent her hurtling into the water without anywhere near enough time for her rigging to activate.

A moment after splashing down, she burst from the water with a gasp to see Bass slapping his biceps. "I'm just too...damn...STROOOONG!"

Nadia grinned evilly, then dissolved into a bolt of lightning that burst from the steaming surf and blitzed straight through her opponent. When she rematerialized behind him after her Charge, she spun on a dime and unleashed Battery in the form of a double electric claw strike, amped up into a pair of critical hits. Then she gave him a turn in the water with a dropkick, though unlike the cartoon wrestler it seemed it could swim “So you’ve got some skills,” she admitted.”I’ve got a whole lotta nasty sur-purr-rises though, so by the time you figure me out…”

The feral concentrated, reaching deep for her latent power. She willed her the spirit Rhodeia of Loch into momentary existence as a Striker, then stood back as the Oceanid created two Hydro Mimics of Nadia herself–a pair of watery clones with claws almost as sharp as the original. By the time Bass clambered out of the water, he found himself outnumbered three to one. “...The battle’s already over.” Nadia smirked, then pointed the mimics at Bass. “Well? Water you waiting for?”

In a flash the mimics took over the battle, giving Nadia a chance to set back, regenerate, and reassess. When she first joined the fight, her friends -and Juri- hadn’t been far behind her. Juri did a good deed for a day when she came to a woman’s rescue, even if she did immediately spoil the moment. Geralt’s sword skills and secret identities made relatively short work of a troublesome trio. Unfortunately, Junior and Rika did their fighting inside Bancho Sushi, and that brawl completely trashed the place. “Nooo, nooo, nooo…I’m so screwed,” Nadia moaned, her head in her hands. Even the locals were getting in on the action; not too far away, a gruff-looking man with a metal horn and a form-fitting suit had nonlethally disposed of not one but two rogue wrestlers. Of course, there were plenty more where they came from. With abundant enemies and less room to maneuver, the fighting got fiercer in the upper levels where Juri was headed. Just what was that psycho planning…?

Nadia’s attention returned to Bass just as he powerbombed her one of her copycats into oblivion. “Wow, this musclehead isn’t just built…he’s just built different!” Noticing that the Hydro Mimics’ attacks left the man Wet, she blasted through him with another Charge to trigger a painful Conducted reaction, then whipped around with a tail slap to knock him down. From there, all the feral needed to do was leap into the air, then fall on him with her full weight behind her modified Mantread boots to leave the man sprawled out and senseless. “Don’t come back for a sequel,” she advised him as the other Hydro Mimic dissolved. “Unless you want to get re-booted!”

She exhaled, then looked around. Down at the docks, Geralt was embarking with Junior and Rika for the cargo ship that brought this crazed crew to Mafia Town’s shores. To her surprise she spotted Dave joining them, outfitted with his wetsuit, a harpoon gun, and a Net Gun. She considered going with them, especially since she didn’t want to see Dave come to harm, but the people of this Mafia Town needed her help, and she couldn’t help but be curious about what Juri might be up to, besides.

Nadia turned and sprinted away from the dock, heading upward through the narrow, sloped Mafia Town streets with Chucho right behind her. There were hooligans everywhere. Some lay defeated on the cobbles, while others went after townsfolk or even one another. As soon as possible she scaled a building and took to the rooftops, leaping and climbing with catlike agility. Even then, though, she couldn’t escape the chaos forever. She ran into two portly female wrestlers, one dressed like a cow in a purple gi and the other an undead pirate, who’d just finished taking out an enormous invader in a dog costume. “Ladies! What’s good?” Nadia struck the pirate before she realized, starting an Unchain combo with a Step that brought her in close enough for a Hammer Blow overhead punch as the Unchain Circle. For the Unchain Finisher she launched a powerful upward lariat of her own, and Chucho followed up with Thus Spoke Pickles to blast the woman out of the air with psychic starlight. “‘Mind’ your head!” Nadia crowed.

The karate cow lashed out with Diamond Crusher, a powerful blow below the belt that would’ve left Nadia in a world of hurt if it connected. Instead, the feral cashed in a stock of Dramatic Tension to unveil her Blue Monday Counter, catching her attacker with her knee. Stunned, the brute couldn’t do much but yell as Nadia grabbed her by the black belt and flipped overhead, her arms made into tentacles by the extension of her muscle fibers. After slamming the wrestler into the roof, a wildly smiling Nadia whirled her arm around, then fell with a splendid elbow drop into her foe’s belly. It drove the fight right out of her, not to mention the wind from her lungs, and she couldn’t only struggle feebly as Nadia rolled her off the roof.

As she dusted her hands, the feral heard another cannon, and followed the sound toward the upper levels where she spotted a familiar pink-and-black blur flying up toward Mafia HQ. “Hmm…”

When Juri reached the upper plate, she found a grim sight at the doorstep of Mafia HQ. The ashes and spirits of a dozen Mafia grunts, three wrestlers, and a couple of Chinese Gangsters lay scattered around a smashed-in front door. As she entered, passed through the empty casino, and headed toward the theater, the sounds of clanging metal became louder and louder, and when she finally burst into the room Juri could catch a glimpse of the fight herself. A heavy-set man with a white suit, nasty scowl, and an expensive-looking guandao was fighting the Mafia Boss with a gang of ten weapon-toting goons at his back, but the squat, mustached mafioso was holding his own with a pair of cleavers that he wielded against Mabuchi’s polearm.

After a fierce exchange of thrusts, slices, and parries, Mabuchi sent the boss flying back toward his throne with a huge upward slash against the boss’s block, but the short man righted himself midair. He began to spin, electricity coursing through his blades. “Super charge!” When he hit the ground, he unleashed a huge spark that surged along the ground and into Mabuchi’s own block.

The ambitious man grunted as the blast pushed him back. “Get him!” he growled at his underlings, and two of them diligently pushed forward with swords. When the mafia boss stopped his swing, however, he hurled his cleavers like sawblades. They ground into the two men, spraying blood, then flew right back into the boss’s hands. As Mabuchi’s men slumped to the ground, he brandished his weapons, disguising his heavy breathing with a raucous laugh.

“Hahaha! You’re no match for me!” At that moment the boss spotted Juri, and he beckoned her over. “Spider! Just in time! Serve up these small fries for me, and you’ll be richly rewarded!”

As Mabuchi whirled around, realizing that his foes now had him surrounded, footsteps resounded from the hall behind Juri. The next moment Nadia appeared, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she surveyed the inside of the Mafia headquarters for the first time. “Wow, this is where you’ve been hangin’ out? A crummy casino with smelly kitchens?” The feral raised her eyebrow at Juri. “Well. Can’t say it doesn’t suit you!”

“Don’t get cocky!” Mabuchi suddenly thundered. He whirled his Qinglong Yanyuedao overhead, then slammed the hilt against the ground. A nebulous crimson aura seemed to emanate from him. “Send all the fodder you want. It makes no difference to the reaper!”

Even without any context, Nadia could tell that things were about to get serious. Under any other circumstances she would’ve happily stepped up to the plate for a tag-team match, but at Juri she just scrunched up her nose. “Help you? I dunno…” After another moment of considering all the players in the room, a devious grin spread across Nadia’s face.

She didn’t care about either the mafia boss or his would-be usurper, but stopping a payday for Juri would be pretty funny.

Meanwhile, down on the ocean's surface above the fabled Blue Hole, the Koopas and their guests had closed in on the rogue cargo ship. Its lights rendered it easily visible against the dark ocean in the dead of night, but they didn’t illuminate any guards or defenses as far as the incoming heroes could see. Over all its floodlights blazed the ominous purple glow of the Flame Clock, plainly advertised with the bravado of a pirate flag rather than hidden away for safety. Due to the ship’s sheer size, however, boarding it from the water’s surface was a tricky proposition. Its smooth, reinforced hull featured no rungs stacked up along its sides for easy climbing. The entry hatches were both high up and sealed tight. Getting aboard presented quite the conundrum.

Sandswept Sky: Skyworld

@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @Yankee @Double @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

With the miraculous advent of a new dawn galvanizing them into action, the bulk of Palutena’s forces left the conquered Ivory Citadel behind and soared over to reinforce their brothers and sisters. Their well-timed arrival reunited the Army of Light against the airborne armada of Laguna over the pitch-stained ports of Citronpool Harbor, and together the angels rallied against the enemy force. Though a number of false angels had taken wing, they could generally be outfought and unceremoniously dispatched, so the army’s main concern took the form of the Kinship funerary boats. In rhythmic motion their oars plied the currents of the air rather than the water, missiles flew from beneath the gleaming masks on their prows, and their decks teemed with corrupted defenders. Being Laguna creatures themselves rather than mere vessels, they could fly and attack on their own, but the angels had already discovered a more fortuitous quirk of these ships’ anatomy: as living creatures, they could be afflicted. Featherswords could hinder their defense or evasion with Shield Smite or Spiral Sword, and every arrow skill possessed by a Featherbow could slow a Kinship down. And when Uriel joined the fray alongside Edelgard and Ortho, the quick-witted commander called out a simple strategy for her soldiers to put into practice.

“Men, attack from below!” Normally, battlefield angels used their wings to give themselves a height advantage over terrestrial foes, staying out of reach while making it easier to shoot down at their targets. Rising higher than these Kinships just gave the corrupted archers and Affinity musicians a shot at them, however, and the homing missiles launched from their cabins posed a serious threat. “Sever the oars, pierce their shells, and scuttle them!”

With that, the scales really did tip in the angels’ favor. By attacking from beneath the Kinships, the angels could pluck their oars like centipede legs, then peel away the rowboats’ gilded, colorful exoskeletons to reveal the corrupted muscle, bones, and arteries beneath. Even if these loathsome monsters’ hearts or brains lay somewhere within the golden boxes on their sterns, there was more than one way to skin a cat, and a bird without wings couldn’t fly. Palutena’s forces pounded the Kinships’ marble faces and ruptured the organs responsible for birthing new cherubic missiles. Feathershields could focus on warding off missiles, while Featherstaves kept everyone going. Empowered by Edward’s magic, their weapons could cut through rotten flesh like hot knives through butter. Fighting the Kinships like this took longer than going for a weak spot, but was safer for Palutena’s forces, and one by one the vessels began to fall. A couple times the distant ballistae got lucky and scored a hit with a massive bolt into a Kinship’s ribs or cabin, and that helped expedite the process. Once the slow but nigh-unstoppable Angelic Champions really got into the mix, they proved capable of even greater damage than the ballistae, their enormous blades of light taking chunks out of Kinships at a time.

This strategy didn’t demand the entirety of Palutena’s force, so a number of the angels set their sights on a different goal: Citronpool Harbor itself. Unlike the Ivory Citadel with its layers of thick stone walls, this second sky island laid its corruption right out in the open, so the army of light could bombard it from a safe distance. Storm Wardens pushed their cannons to the limit, raining down purifying plasma from above, while lieutenants like Celia unveiled a secret weapon: the holy hand grenades. Once hurled down, the praises of a disembodied choir heralded divine explosions that could level multiple infested buildings at once. Though this skyport had once been beautiful, there was no saving it now–only ablution could redeem this tainted soil.

Reasonably assured that their allies could handle the rest of the enemies, the Seekers could focus on the biggest problem. Worship, part heavy ordinance platform and part enormous battering ram, was a force to be reckoned with. Its energy bullets, cherubic missiles, and golden bulk made it very dangerous to attract its attention, while its rocket-fueled aerial mobility made hitting it almost impossible in flight. At one point it used its laser to snipe a ballistae that dared take a shot at it, and a moment later it decided to simply smash through a doomed Kinship just to obliterate the squad of angels poised to finish it off. Nevertheless, Midna managed to catch it and sink her claws in. She managed to deal respectable damage, but even the Twilight Princess and her cohorts couldn’t stick to the Worship for long, and when they fell back others took up the slack.

One squad of angels kept perilously close to the Worship throughout the skirmish. Fodoquia led them fearlessly in a mission to harry the inglorious thing until he saw an opportunity. “Team! Heavensmite!” Nodding, the others fell back alongside him just far enough that they could surround the lynchpin of their strategy, the stern Feathersword Ochlys, and start casting buffs. “Row Resistance,” Fodoquia pronounced, shrouding his team in a magic-resistant barrier.

The Featherbow Raenys loosed a Saint’s Shot toward Worship, then surrounded Ochlys with an aura of whirling air. “Tailwind!”

Despite his disgrace, the reverend knight Sanatio intended to atone through his duties. “Honed healing,” the curly-haired Featherstaff muttered. “Holy Cradle.”

By now, Ochlys was humming with energy. She raised her slender blade, studying the searing enchantment that burned across its blade thanks to Edward’s magic. “I suppose that’s five,” she remarked in a nonchalant English accent. “And finally…Accelerate!”

The warrior took flight, her blades flapping in the breeze as she pierced the sky, fast enough to leave afterimages. As she dove toward Worship, she lifted her blade for a Honed Slash, triggering Discharge consuming every buff to multiply her own attack power. “Wield me, o Father!” With her truestrike readied, she could neither miss nor be outrun, and in a flash her sword delivered her to her enemy. “HAH!”

Her incredible slash dealt out six times the damage it should have, cutting a massive furrow through Worship’s body. The next instant Ochlys was gone, having overshot her foe thanks to her speed, but the damage had been done. The flagship of Laguna’s fleet was grievously injured, and it wasn’t long before Pit led a heroic charge straight into Worship’s laser, then eliminated the blasphemous aircraft once and for all. The last Kinship fell soon after.

By now, the Army of Light wasn’t far at all from the last of the infected sky islands, a place where no angel had ever set foot and lived, the source and stronghold of the corruption. It resembled a massive rocky crag covered in buried churches, its stony surfaces slick with corruption, with an enormous train track that spiraled around and through the island itself, and along that track ran the train. It was a colossal, hideous, and intricate affair, more like a procession of gothic cathedrals on wheels than an actual locomotive. Corruption dripped down its sides and acrid fumes billowed from its smokestacks as the train made its grim rounds. Here, the corrupted monsters were at their most impure, being little more than oily masses with random arrays of limbs and multiple white laguna masks, though some also appeared to have subsumed machine parts from the blighted locomotive. They crawled all over it, silhouetted against its sickly yellow light as it eked them out from its twisted innards. There could be no doubt that the throbbing heart of the corruption could be found on board.

With their commanders in attendance, the angels regrouped on the light-scoured far side of Citronpool Harbor, recuperating as much as possible for their final assault. Angels healed one another, chomped on Roasted Nuts, and wolfed down Hot Cross Buns to refuel their stamina. As they ate, their brightest star’s voice filled them with resolve. “Steel yourselves, men!” Uriel exclaimed. “We’ve made it this far, and we’re not backing down now. Let us cleanse the sky of this filth once and for all! Let us fly forth and bring forth the Father’s wrath to pierce the rotten heart!”

Forbidden Kingdom: Meridi-at-Han

Level 8 Goldlewis (89/80) Level 1 Grimm (9/10)
@Yankee @Archmage MC @Drifting Pollen
Word Count: 1041

Just as Goldlewis anticipated, the men and women of Meridi-at-han weren’t about to let such a golden opportunity pass them by. With their target waylaid by the veteran’s unyielding harpoon and his back turned toward them, the guards and adventurers threw caution to the wind and let loose everything they had in a bid to bring the burning wolf down. Through the ensuing bombardment arced a triple-shot of heavy black fire, its abyssal weight crashing into Ralph’s back. That benthic blast was what got it through to Ralph that, try as he might, he couldn’t break free from the big man’s grasp in this wounded state. Howling, the enormous wolf took a moment to gather his strength, then let go of the building with one hand and half-turned to leap toward his captor. In that critical moment, though, a Sun Guard captain unleashed his Firespitter. Its arrow-covered payload punched a primitive rocket into Ralph’s hide, then exploded, stalling the monster long enough for Primrose to deliver her amped-up Moonlight Waltz and eliminate the beast for good.

With a final whine, Ralph fell from several stories up, forcing Goldlewis to hop backward to avoid a blow from a flailing limb. “Dag nabbit!” As the citizens cheered, a number of hunters jostled through the crowd, carving knives at the ready, to try and get a piece or two of the dissolving carcass before only ashes remained. Goldlewis left them to it, using the crank on his Yowie harpoon gun to reel the huge hook back in. After checking that everyone was accounted for, he gave a sigh of relief. He’d been banged up a bit, and he hadn’t expected to have to use his full strength tonight, but considering the circumstances -and the unfortunate end met by some of the cityfolk- he really couldn’t complain. If anything, he figured he could use the exercise, though he knew that thinking like that was making light of the situation. The real surprise, he estimated, was Primrose. He hadn’t fought alongside her yet, so despite her toned muscles the veteran assumed that the dancer would take a support role. In the brawl with Ralph, though, she’d strutted her stuff in the offense department as well. His first instinct, borne of his time in the army, was to give her a congratulatory clap on the shoulder, but Goldlewis stopped himself and limited his commendation to an appreciative nod. “Nice goin’ there, missie. You’re one hell of a credit to the team.”

Arms crossed, Goldlewis looked around to take stock of the situation. A ways off, George had already been defeated, and Lizzie was on her last legs. As quickly and violently as it began, the rampage seemed to be coming to a close. But why were those monsters here to begin with? “Surely this ain’t a natural occurrence,” he mused aloud. “And how in sam hill did those beasts get all the way up here without anyone seein’ em? Been a spell since I went down to the jungle, but I reckon them giants stood head and shoulders above the trees down there.” This should’ve been a preventable disaster. With an appropriate amount of guards for such a large population in a dangerous region like this, he would’ve expected Meridi-at-han to be much better prepared–and yet the monsters had appeared right out of the blue, taking the whole city by surprise.

After only a minute or so the carvers had cleaned the corpse out, and as they dispersed Goldlewis moseyed over. He didn’t really expect to find any clues among the giant’s remains, so he was surprised when he spotted something dimly reflective amidst the ashes of the wolf’s leg. With a grunt he crouched down, picked it up, and turned it over in his hands. It was a crumpled-up soda can, badly damaged, but when he stretched it out he could make out -with some difficulty- the words ‘SCUM SODA’ on a green background. Brows furrowed, he glanced around. Had the can been stuck between the beast’s toes? “Mighty strange,” he muttered. Of course, he’d seen a lot stranger things than a soda can in a fantastical setting like Meridi-at-han, and the whole World of Light was pretty anachronistic anyway, but something about this particular oddity rubbed him the wrong way. “Scum Soda,” he repeated, shaking the can. Empty. He pocketed it, then stood up.

His investigation concluded just in time, since Primrose had noticed something amiss. She directed his attention toward some sort of commotion in the torchlit shadows back in the direction of the Grimm Troupe’s former big top. While the smoldering dark looked like nothing more than the burned-out wreckage of the tent at first glance, something about the way those scarlet lights flitted forced Goldlewis to agree that something was off. Still not sure what he was looking at, he hefted his coffin and followed her at a brisk pace. By now the streets were relatively clear, with the citizens sheltered and the guards on high alert, so an eerie aura suffused the hastily-abandoned marketplace. Only when Goldlewis got within a hundred feet was Goldlewis surprised to see a ring-shaped huddle of shadowy, ghostly bugs, so excitedly intent on something in their midst that they didn’t even notice the big man jogging toward them. They didn’t part to make way for him either, so Goldlewis had to muscle his way through the manic Grimmkin acolytes. Finally, he laid eyes on the cause of the commotion: a frantic fight between the Troupe Master and some suspicious-looking sorceress.

Goldlewis paused, rubbing his head as he watched the magical mayhem. He still couldn’t be sure whether or not Grimm was guilty of some wrongdoing. He couldn’t fathom why they’d be fighting or who was in the right, but these two were Gleaming, which meant that this could only end one way. Better to break it up if he could. Looking around, he spotted not just Primrose, but Roland and Zenkichi among the bugs. They definitely had the numbers to pull the pyromaniacs apart. For now the unsubtle soldier held his ground, waiting for one of the others to make a move he could capitalize on. When someone needed a hand, he’d be there.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

I think with three pages and 48 lengthy posts at the time of writing this, I've missed my window.

@Randomness

It's never too late to join in my mind, but if you're no longer interested, then I wish you the best.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

@Randomness Hey there, how are things looking? Still got any interest in joining? It's no problem either way, but I figured I'd follow up.

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

Lewa

Upon posing his questions, Lewa's regret was as immediate as it was potent. A simple 'no' would have been unfortunate enough, but the priestess's body language conveyed how off-base the toa's request was even before she let loose the bad news. As it turned out, he would just fail to find Lavielle here, but anywhere. His new acquaintance made the goddess sound like a discarded, long-forgotten relic, a being much farther from the minds of the people than the slumbering Mata Nui. But how could that be, when it was her power that bridged the unfathomable gap between worlds and drew him forth to this place only a few days ago? Was this priestess wrong? Or were the people of Aventon? As Lewa reeled, dizzied by the sheer distance that had opened up between himself and his goal, the priestess tried to offer him some comfort in the form of a couple vague possibilities, but they fell on deaf ears. What was he going to do?

Soon the woman's attention returned to the young fae, and Lewa followed suit. He half-heard her explanation about the unique characteristics of the fae, placing this girl's well-being totally beyond the realm of human understanding. Well, none of it really mattered. He hadn't wanted to attend to her in the first place, and as the toa's helplessness mounted, his motivation dwindled. Lewa stared down at the girl listlessly, though of course she didn't meet his gaze, and seriously considered dropping her on the spot. If he couldn't get back home, and everything he loved was doomed to agonizing dissolution in the acid of the Lehvak horde, what point was there in any of this?

After a long moment, Lewa squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. That was a bad line of thinking, both for himself and everyone around him. Even if this girl had been unceremoniously dumped on him, an impossible and unsolvable burden, she didn't deserve to be left alone and vulnerable. The toa beat back the depressive thoughts, trying to center himself. He might not be able to save Le-koro, and his strength paled in comparison to the other otherworlders, but if he could save even one innocent life, he was still a hero. "A merchant shrine...a mage," he muttered, considering the recommendation of the priestess. A mage might be able to help her. "I know a mage," Lewa told himself. If he found Rayne, maybe she could do something for this girl. And even if she couldn't, Lewa couldn't stand being by himself anymore. He needed a teammate to work with, someone to lead and direct him, in order to shake off the bad thoughts that gnawed at him.

The spirit of air patted the fae girl's head gently, then turned to go and begin his search anew, his pace as brisk as the wind.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Deep Blue Seaside: Mafia Town

Level 14 Ms Fortune (58/140)
@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @Yankee @Zoey Boey @Double @DisturbedSpec
Word Count: 1838

The fresh order of Fried Onion Cattlefish arrived at appreciable speed, and as the others continued to talk, Nadia got to work. With its chewy, slightly elastic flesh housed within a shell of crunchy fried batter, and surrounded by rings of sweet, caramelized fried onion, the cephalopod made for a savory feast that left Nadia thirsty for another bear. The catgirl cheerfully munched her way through the remainder of her meal, and in so doing she also ruminated on what her allies had to say. Having learned all they could during their stay in Mafia Town and shared what they found out, the team needed to figure out what came next. Of course, even if they put together some ideas and plans, Nadia’s next objective wasn’t really hers to decide. She wasn’t the Seeker’s leader, nor the brains of the operation, so the final call would be up to somebody like Sandalphon (or God forbid, Bowser) to make.

Unsurprisingly, Juri favored violence, after the reports about V and 𝙸, she seemed especially eager to off some consuls. Nadia couldn’t help but snort at some of her suggestions, and the vastly inflated ego it took to throw them out so casually. Thinking too highly of herself was nothing new for Juri, but she’d really outed herself by recommending a Consul hunt. It had taken the entire Under team, roughly half the entire roster of Seekers, to fight and take down P, himself a consul of uncommon complacence and immaturity by all accounts. From what little she’d heard of the Midgar team’s raid on the Shinra Building, their own fight against Y had been down to the wire. As much as Nadia wanted to depose more of the World of Light’s secret elite, their motley crew would need some backup first, especially going in blind.

Even if two beers had been enough to make someone like Nadia tipsy, that grim reminder from Junior would have sobered her up. As if the existence of twenty-six super-powerful despots wasn’t enough of a problem to begin with, the Koopa Kids had delivered a double-whammy to the Seekers that left them reeling: first, that their foes could simply replace any of the fallen. And second, the new Consul P was none other than Princess Peach, less than a day after Sandalphon reported her as KIA. It was a lot to handle, and really, Nadia hadn’t been handling it–just trying to forget about it. Unfortunately, with the speed that Nadia’s blood replenished, it would take a LOT more than two beers to make that revelation palatable. She could only sigh and voice her agreement with Rika. “Yeah, that consul deserves some major payback. An 𝙸 for an 𝙸.”

At that point, Blazermate crashed the party, quickly cramming herself along the bar of Bancho Sushi alongside all the others. Normally a machine would have no need to visit a restaurant, but this medabot was the sociable type. Unfortunately, if she wanted to find them well she’d come at a bad time. “Could be better,” Nadia admitted. It sounded like Blazermate caught of a glimpse of whatever Geralt saw, so the catgirl ignored the new report. “But hey, the chow’s purr-etty great,” she continued. “Bancho’s been teachin’ me a little about Asian food. Ever hear of a century egg? They’re eggs that got made a long tamago.” Even if that was a pun nobody but her could possibly get, the terrible joke left her giggling.

At that point, a marked increase in the ambient hubbub drew her attention toward the seaward end of the restaurant, prompting her ears to swivel and then her head to turn. Some of the other customers were congregating along the railing. Nadia just watched for another few seconds, chewing through the last of her rubbery fried cuttlefish. Her first guess was that someone spotted a breaching whale or dolphin pod, since the Blue Hole was famous for its variety of sea creature sightings. It did occur to her, after her run-in with that mutant hammerhead, that the critter could just as easily be a dangerous aberration. Either way, her curiosity wouldn’t let her sit still for long. With a look at her companions she pushed off her seat and sauntered over to the other side of Bancho Sushi to look out across the water. Her slitted electric-blue eyes were sharp, but by now it was dark out, and she couldn’t see anything amiss amongst the waves.

As she searched, she felt something nudge her elbow. When she looked down, the feral was delighted to see Chucho, her beloved polterpup. Not taking to the water like his owner, Chucho tended to wander the town while Nadia plumbed the depths of the Blue Hole, but her ghostly companion always turned up sooner or later. “Hey buddy, you’re late today!” she laughed, grabbing him in her arms to hug. He gave her a big ghostly lick, then glanced out to sea, ears perked up. Nadia followed his gaze, and a moment later she saw it: a massive black block on the water. A cargo ship.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Wait a second…” She suddenly remembered seeing -and absentmindedly forgetting about- that ship right after hunting that tuna. Silhouetted against the setting sun, it had just faded into the background. Now, though, it crept through the night, its presence unannounced and inexplicable. Closer and closer to Mafia Town. And as it grew closer, Nadia’s eyes could focus and better make out its details, like the absurdly big circus cannon sitting on its upper deck, and the enormous device embedded in its tower just below the bridge, an ornate gauge just over halfway full of brilliant purple fire.

“A Flame Clock!” Nadia blurted out, startled by the sight. While she’d never seen Mafia Town’s, she knew the island city must have one, like every ‘colony’ scattered throughout the World of Light. When the flames burned out, so too would the lives of those it sustained. That one immutable fact doomed the people of this world to unending war, fighting to fuel the clocks with the lives of others just to live another day. And with the added context of what had been happening to Limsa Lominscuttle Town…!

At that moment, a terrifically loud ringing noise originated from the cargo ship, the harsh audio feedback of a microphone too close to its speaker. Then a voice, electronically amplified to many times its original volume, resounded across the water like that of a sports announcer across a jam-packed stadium.

“GOOOOOD evening, ladies and gentlemen of Mafia Town! I’m your host, Skip Leggerday, and I’m here with a special, one-night-only, all-inclusive event that you literally can’t miss! So buckle your seatbelts and strap yourselves in, ‘cause it’s time for a Battle. Royal. RUMBLEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

As the unknown man spoke, music swelled from the cargo ship’s loudspeakers, but when he finished the tunes were drowned out by the tremendous blast of the ship’s cannon. From its yawning dark maw flew no less than one hundred flaming projectiles like comets through the night. They arced through the air, blazing trails in their wake, and sailed down toward Mafia Town as its stunned populace looked on. But while as shocked as anyone else, Nadia didn’t freeze. She turned tail and took off on all fours, sprinting back toward her allies through the restaurant with Chucho hovering at her heels. “Incomiiiiiing!”

The bombardment began to fall over Mafia Town’s southern side, breaking the boards, cracking the pavement, and cratering the sand where each payload fell. One landed on top of Bancho Sushi, but instead of breaking through it rolled right off and onto the dock, revealing himself to be a portly man with a high-visibility vest, a black afro, and cartoonish proportions. These weren’t cannonballs–they were people! These people were of all shapes and sizes, and many wore bizarre and/or mismatched outfits, but they had one thing in common: the moment they picked themselves up from where they landed, none the worse for wear, they began to attack.

For a moment Nadia watched, astonished, as the maniacs gleefully went after civilians and Mafia goons alike. They lashed out with big, telegraphed slaps, punches, and kicks, then unleashed all kinds of special moves from grabs and mists to tackles and lariats. This, she realized, was the fate that had befallen Limsa, and now its perpetrators had come to Mafia Town. She couldn’t afford to wonder why, though. The people needed her help, and Nadia Fortune wasn’t one to disappoint.

“Let’s go, Chucho!” Nadia leaped out of the restaurant and onto the wharf, then made a beeline for the unknown assailant as he hurled a hapless mafioso into the water with a whirlwind swing. She leaped into the air and fell on him with a divekick that led into a handful of claw slashes and culminated in an Unchain series, starting with a Tornado high thrust kick. From there she launched forward with a Sobat high kick as the Unchain Circle, then floored her foe with a wound-up straight punch as the Unchain Finisher. When she darted in to apply pressure, however, the wrestler popped up with a sucker punch to the stomach that shrugged off her attack, staggering her long enough that he could reach out and snatch her in another whirlwind swing. “Whoa-oa-oa-oa-!”

With an angry bark, Chucho intervened. He saved Nadia’s bacon with Thus Spoke Pickles, the starlight blast of mental energy interrupting the wrestler’s swing. Nadia’ momentum still sent her tumbling off the dock, but thanks to her rigging she salvaged her fall with a tech off the water’s surface. She shakily rose to her feet, then skated back toward the dock, peppering her target with blood rounds from her cannon batteries. When she got close enough, the feral threw herself into the wrestler’s guard with a double slash, her chip damage amplified by 30% thanks to Thus Spoke Pickles. In a flash she drew her Athame daggers, reducing his defense with each rapid slash to his guard, until she went for a throw. Extruding her own muscle fiber, she ensnared the wrestler in a bar of bloody yarn, then playfully hurled him into the water. To her surprise, however, her enemy sank straight to the bottom without so much as a stream of air bubbles.

Though confused for a moment, Nadia couldn’t sit still in this target-rich environment. “One down…now for the ‘wrest’ of them,” she muttered, turning her attention toward Mafia Town.

Immediately a big man in a black showy outfit consisting of a studded longcoat and pants dropped down from the roof of Seaside Spaghetti. “Come on, let’s do this!” Bass Armstrong challenged her, arms outstretched. Nadia stowed her knives and sharpened her claws, ready to take him on.

Stirred into action by the sudden attack, the inhabitants of Mafia Town rallied to fight back against the onslaught. Surly sailors, sea creatures, and Mafia leg-breakers alike all rolled out to repel the invaders. Even tommy gun-toting elites like Chrom and Rosanna joined the fray. But while the defenders were occupied, Mabuchi led his well-armed band toward the Mafia headquarters. The arrival of the infamous raiders, exactly as planned, had created a perfect storm. In the middle of all the chaos, the merciless edge of his Guan Dao would part the Mafia of Cooks from its head, allowing him to seize power at last. When his team reached the plate in the sky, they found only a token force guarding the front doors. With an ugly smile, Mabuchi went to work.

Sandswept Sky: Skyworld

@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @Yankee @Double @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

Following the destruction of the Ivory Citadel’s towers, Palutena’s forces seized the advantage to push through into the heart of the corrupted fortress. The fighting was fierce, at times a brutal slog slowed to a crawl by wave after wave of dangerous fodder, or a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse as angels hunted down sycophant assassins and ayfid snipers that threatened to pick them off one by one. False angels appeared with a variety of tricks up their loathsome sleeves, demanding the focus of Featherbows to ensure that their most dangerous attacks missed the mark. With every corruption node eliminated, however, the army of light gained ground. By now, every soldier knew how the Corruption worked; its growths could bear their vile fruit no matter how many were cut down, but if the angels pulled out its roots, its branches would wither. Enterprising Featherswords could use Accelerate to dash past enemy gangs, or in and out of windows, in order to go straight for the plague’s black hearts and deprive their foes of their power. Slowly but surely, the army of light was driving back the darkness.

While the soldiers scoured the citadel, the Seekers racked up a series of important victories. As the strongest amongst the Laguna monsters stationed here, both Belief and Beloved presented major challenges, but when Midna, Pit, Edelgard, and Roxas managed to take them down, their underlings faltered soon after. Sectonia’s victory over Edward and the eldritch throne of whispers deprived the Corruption of the last of the strategic power it had managed to accrue, leaving its pawns little more than a directionless mob. Soon, the various squadrons of Palutena’s forces reunited in the great hall, the final holdout of the Corruption in the Ivory Citadel. Here, the many branches of the fortress’s infestation coalesced, becoming aged masses of putrefaction that joined together at a single source: the distended head of a long-dead corpse, Legion, seated atop the throne.

Having finally reached this place after what felt like years of interminable stalemate against their hated foe, the angels had picked up momentum. With Fodoquia at the forefront they stormed the hall, propelled by the beat of their cloud-white wings over the roiling gloom that carpeted the marbled floor, and began to wipe out the last of the benighted horde. As its annihilation drew near, however, the Corruption played its final card. From the gnarled disk, a foul yellow light blazed, a sickly, odious, and unwholesome foil to the nourishing, sacred light of the erdtrees. Just being within its line of sight was enough to cause dizziness and nausea, while looking at it directly filled the eyes and brain with toxic, searing brilliance. The angels returned fire as best they could, but the eye beat down on them like the desert sun, hampering their efforts so much that they scrambled for shelter against the noisome glare. As the tables turned, the knotted disk somehow detached from the corpse’s neck and began to float across the room, bathing all in its vomitous glow and ear-piercing noise.

Suddenly, Palutena’s voice rang out over the awful din. ”Angels in the great hall, clear the center!”

The next moment a thunderous impact shook the building, and the roof of the great hall began to buckle. With a tremendous racket, great slabs of masonry fell, smashing against the disk and the corrupted monsters on the ground. Legion’s light dimmed, and the gentle night poured in from above, but in that darkness the angels spotted radiant halos and splendid golden armor.

“Open fire!” Nathaniel bellowed.

To either side of him, Storm Wardens unleashed their cannons, raining down destruction on the dregs of Corruption. In the middle of their barrage, both Nathaniel and Uriel dove down, blades at the ready. “May the Father guide our hands!” they called, eyes screwed shut. With a roar Nathaniel struck first, using the flat of his blade to send the twisted disk flying back toward the corrupted throne. Then Uriel crashed into Legion, unleashing lightspeed slashes with her Dawnbreaker until the light of day cut through the blighted luster in a climactic explosion, and after that, all was silent.

A moment later, cheers broke through the stunned quiet, and together the heavenly host ascended through the hole in the roof to regroup atop the reclaimed Ivory Citadel. As Uriel and Nathaniel composed herself, panting from their efforts, Celia swooped down atop Ortho. “Good work, everyone!” she congratulated them. “But I’m afraid our battle is far from over. Look!”

Next in the corrupted archipelago, the sky island that was once Citronpool Harbor had more than stirred–it had awakened. From its gloom-slathered ports embarked angelic vessels of such golden grandiosity that they could only be Laguna monstrosities themselves. Half a dozen Kinships now sailed through the sky like unholy funeral barges, manned by corrupted archers, while Citronpool’s central shipyard launched a much larger weapon of war: the stunning rocket-shaped Worship. Already the Kinships were spitting out missiles with cherubic faces, forcing an engagement with Nathaniel and Uriel’s airborne units while their leaders were away.

With that realization, morale among the soldiers dropped. Fighting through the claustrophobic, enemy-rich environment of the citadel had exhausted the angels, claiming many lives and leaving many more wounded. At this point the army of light would normally fall back to heal up and decontaminate, lest traces of corruption take route inside them, but there was no backing out now. To make matters worse, night had well and truly fallen. The Feathers’ skills were strong normally, but the extra effects gained during the daytime gave them a serious upper hand. Now the darkly-colored enemies had the advantage.

Once again, Palutena’s voice rang out. ”Do not fear, angels of skyworld! Lift your heads and rejoice, for though I am not your Father, I remain your goddess of light!”

Straightening up from her scrying pool in her temple, Palutena reached over and lifted a splendid flower from its cushion, holding it in her hand. The flower, with layered shades of yellow, orange, red, blue, and purple like the sunset sky, began to glow, and when she held it up, the Dream Blossom shot into the sky. It burst in a wave of pure radiance, pushing back the dark as daylight filled the vaults of heaven over Skyworld once more. Seeing this miraculous feat, the angels cheered, their spirits and abilities renewed. All of a sudden the Laguna ships didn’t seem all that fearsome, especially now that the ballistae operators could see again. The verminous bog called Citronpool Harbor, with no proper defenses to speak of, looked like easy pickings, so really those ships were all that stood between the army of light and the final corrupted sky island. Celia was right: this battle wasn’t over just yet.

Hearing the exultations of her forces filled Palutena with joy. ”All troops…move out!”

Forbidden Kingdom: Meridi-at-Han

Level 8 Goldlewis (87/80) Level 1 Grimm (6/10)
@Yankee @Archmage MC @Drifting Pollen
Word Count: 1640

When the trio hit the ground, they split up, with Roland disappearing right away to challenge George while Primrose stood her ground for a moment, preparing a magical dance. Even if they weren’t at his heels, though, Goldlewis stayed the course toward Ralph, and not just because he wanted to make sure Primrose got her chance to use her support skills. The giant wolf had snatched a panicked Meridi-at-han citizen with a hungry leer, licking his chops. Like a kid with a piece of popcorn Ralph then tossed the poor old man high into the air, turning his head upward as he opened his mouthful of fangs wide.

Goldlewis scowled, dropping his coffin. He knew he had just one shot at this, but it wasn’t his military training that would save the day right now. To pull this off, he’d need to rely on even older experience. “Thunderbird!” His coffin cracked open, and the UMA inside let fly a spiked bomb. Rather than let it hover toward the monster on its own, though, Goldlewis opted for the faster option: seizing it in his hand and hurling it like a football. The explosive hurtled through the air, propelled by almost inhuman strength, and detonated against Ralph’s ear. The giant yelped, flinching, and the old man meant for his gullet instead bounced off his furry shoulder. Quickly back to his fight against Mudrock in Quarantine Valley, Goldlewis placed his boot against his coffin and kicked it to send it sliding along the ground toward. From within the casket the UMA extended three arms to catch the citizen before he could slam into the ground.

Seeing the man safe, Goldlewis wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but he could do no such thing. Ralph recovered from the grenade quickly, and after turning to fix a furious glare on his disarmed attacker, the wolf charged. His massive stride closed the distance in an instant, and his enormous hand descended with ferocious speed. Goldlewis barely threw himself out of the way in time, but Ralph easily raked his claws across the ground to catch the veteran in the back and knock him down. Another second and the monster brought a footpaw down on him, gleefully crushing him against the earth. “Guh! Need a…hand!”

Luckily, Primrose had worked her magic by then, bolstering her comrade’s defense with a Mole Dance spread far and wide by Sealticge's Seduction. The big man trapped beneath Ralph’s heel turned out to be an unexpectedly tough nut to crack, and Kayna didn’t give him the time to break through. She and Avmar leaped to the veteran’s aid, getting his attention with the Velocidrome’s cruel talons. As Goldlewis picked himself up, Primrose herself followed up with her uncanny black flames. Suddenly Ralph found himself beset by a whole crowd of enemies, a mixture of Seekers, Sun Guards, and adventurers armed with might or magic. With that old man safe, Goldlewis the chance to grab his coffin, yanking it into his grasp by the chain just in time to block a wide sweep from the giant. When Ralph noticed just who it was that his claws bounced off of, he reached back down for another grab, but the veteran batted his mitt away. At that point the Grimmkin joined in from above, pelting Ralph with scarlet fireballs that left burning patches in his fur, others who wielded flames joined in. When Primrose pitched her next pyromancy at him, the beast went up in flames.

Ignited and burning, the giant went berserk. He flailed around in a wild tantrum, stomping his footpaws and slicing at anyone and everyone he could. His constant and unpredictable movement made it difficult for his attackers to keep themselves in one piece, let alone get a piece of him, but his reckless abandon meant that he’d be wide open if someone got past his offense. The Secretary of Absolute Defense rose to the occasion, fearlessly chasing Ralph down. He dashed, blocked using Faultless Defense, then dashed again until his patience reward him with the opportunity to bring his coffin crashing down on Ralph’s foot in a stupendous Behemoth Typhoon.

He heard something break, and the burning wolf howled, agonized. With a snarl Ralph turned and limped to the nearest buildings, then began to climb in an attempt to get away. Goldlewis snorted and cracked open his coffin again. Normally anything under Galeem’s influence couldn’t flee from a battle -maybe he intended to return to the fight after quenching the flames in a nearby river?- but it didn’t matter, because this beast wasn’t getting away. Helpful as ever, the UMA provided him with his newest weapon: the giant harpoon gun he’d named Yowie, gained from the spirit of Rosa. Goldlewis planted his feet, took aim at Ralph’s back, and fired. A howl shook Meridi-at-han as the giant harpoon lodged between the monster’s ribs, but he only paused for a moment. Immediately he began to drag Goldlewis forward, though the big man fought for every inch. It was up to the others to bring him down.

At the same time, while Kayna and Avmar showed up to assist Zenkichi against Lizzie, another phantom appeared in the vicinity of Roland and Oscar. In the torchlit dark of night, only the flash of scarlet eyes betrayed the presence of ink-black claws that slid through the furry flesh of the giant gorilla like butter, but each time the specter struck he vanished just as quickly. By the time Roland’s unsportsmanlike strike laid George low, his hair was wet with blood, and at that opportune moment Grimm made his entrance. The bug blinked in not far from Oscar, his arrival announced by a burst of crimson embers, and he threw open his cloak to launch a salvo of screeching firebats at George’s face. Spurred to anger by the searing pain, George balled his huge fists and pounded the earth, throwing many of the makeshift militia to the ground. He then sprang to his feet and plucked a certain plain-faced parasite from his hide, then went to pop Roland in his mouth and regain his health from his crushed bones.

Before he could be devoured, both Oscar and Grimm interceded. Having few compunctions himself, the old spearman unleashed a High-speed Stabbing directly into George’s already-damaged groin, inflicting a grievous enough wound that the ape forgot all about Roland. Then, as the Fixer fell, the Troupe Master darted toward George’s ankle. With most of the militia members confined to melee range, they’d been softening up his lower legs as best they could, and now Grimm aimed his razor-sharp claws at the giant’s Achilles tendon. Bellowing, George fell to one knee, and after a quick pivot Grimm jumped straight for his enemy’s scorched face. As Grimm hung in the air, time seemed to slow down, allowing him to consider his target. His jump arc put George’s throat out of his reach, and he couldn’t be sure that his claws were long enough to pierce it anyway, so he changed targets. His fingers sliced across the ape’s right eye, forcing it shut, but when he turned his head he got a bead on Grimm before he could disengage. A massive hand closed around the Troupe Master, and without ceremony George threw the bug in his mouth and bit down.

The next second Grimm teleported back out into the night air, appearing a few dozen feet away. Unfortunately he could not launch any firebats while falling, and when he landed he hit the ground in an unusually graceless tumble. The Troupe Master hissed as he regarded his lower right leg, crushed between two of George’s teeth. To make matters worse, something felt off, but nothing to do with this fight. Grimm found his attention drawn back toward his troupe’s camp and burned-out tent. There were no giants over there, but he could still see scarlet flames, and hear the sounds of combat. “Kindred, heed me.” A Grimmkin Nightmare descended to support him as the couple dozen scarlet flames dancing above the city turned and streaked through the darkness. With his assistant Grimm began to move, leaving the others to finish the fight against a wounded George as he ripped a palm tree from the ground to use as a weapon.

A few moments later, the shadows lengthened impromptu battlegrounds between the two remaining Shadows and the Witch’s undead cohort. From the gloom floated the ghostly Grimmkin, their scarlet braziers flaring to life to flicker and bob like so many fireflies. After gaining the upper hand in her surprise attack, the schemer, hungry for some semblance of satisfaction as she sought to defile and enslave those who resisted her, had allowed her greed to get the better of her. Now the unnatural insects gathered like the audience of a performance themselves, whispering and tittering in disembodied, inhuman voices. They held their torches like staves, more than ready to pay the Witch back for her arson. With the threat of a fiery demise from the Grimmkin more than implicit, the two remaining Shadows turned mace, sword, worm, and flame on their former brother, drawing it away as they methodically dissected the new zombie. Finally, a scathing whisper cut through the crowd, insinuating words like an assassin might his blade.

"A spark of red lights darkest dream,
Scarlet nightmares bright and wild,
Visions dance and flames do speak…”

Grimm stepped forward, unsteady on his wounded leg, and extended his clawed hand in invitation. If this human yearned for knowledge, and believed herself worthy, all that remained was to take it. To join the Troupe Master in a new kind of dance, one with just two steps.

“Burn the father, feed the child."

Grimm bowed his head to her, and the show was on.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Deep Blue Seaside: Mafia Town

Level 14 Ms Fortune (55/140)
@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @Yankee @Zoey Boey @Double @DisturbedSpec
Word Count: 1268

With trays, platters, and beers to deliver to plenty of eager customers, Nadia couldn’t stick around to see how her rival liked her food, but she did keep an eye on Juri as she went about her duties, and the rare look of actual joy on the martial artist’s face (before she instinctively suppressed it) told Nadia everything she needed to know. This was the most genuinely happy that she’d ever seen Juri, and though it did rankle the cat burglar somewhat to be doing something nice for her old nemesis, she couldn’t force herself to think that Juri didn’t deserve to be happy sometimes. Maybe if the heterochromatic hooligan wasn’t so miserable all the time, she wouldn’t have to take it out on everyone around her, and the two of them wouldn’t need to be enemies. “Heh, that’s right,” Nadia muttered smugly, a smirk on her face. Not even the most derisive, scornful person she knew could muster up the gumption to deny Bancho’s mastery. “Put me down all you like if it makes you feel better, but you better not disrespect the boss!”

With four Seekers present in the restaurant already, though, Nadia could read the room. Plus, her stomach had been growling for a while, and after coming within inches of so many tantalizing delicacies the poor catgirl was practically drooling. It was time for a well-deserved break. She headed toward Bancho’s prep station, waving for attention. “Hey boss, can I take five? You know what they say: you can tune a guitar, but you can’t tuna fish!” Chuckling to herself, she looked over at Dave. “You got this for a bit, right Dave?”

Her fellow diver was a little red in the face from so much jogging around, but after a deep breath he gave a nod. “Yup, I can handle it. Rush’s starting to die down anyway.”

Bancho grunted his assent. A sushi chef of his caliber could tell what blood belonged to a fish, and what didn’t. Despite Nadia’s spiteful initial plan, he could acknowledge that she went above and beyond when it came to fulfilling his vision. He turned to her, a fresh plate of Hot Pepper Tuna in hand. “Enjoy.”

“For me?” Nadia’s eyes sparkled as she accepted the plate. “Holy mackerel! That right there’s why you’re the basst, boss.”

Dinner in one hand and a tall glass of foamy amber beer in the other, the catgirl seated herself on the opposite side of Rika and Junior from Juri, creating a koopy sandwich (though luckily the two weren’t in bread). Having ordered one of everything on tonight’s menu, the two youths had a mountain of seafood to eat their way through, so if they weren’t careful their stomachs would end up hurting almost as bad as their wallets. Of course, Nadia wolfed down her own food with reckless abandon too; even if the meal left her reeling from the accumulated kick of the habanero peppers, she couldn’t stop herself gobbling up the ultra-fresh fish. It was a miracle she noticed Geralt when he showed up out of the blue. Luckily the Witcher was hard to miss or mistake. When he approached Nadia gave him a wave, her tail flicking happily, and then kept eating.

With the others focused on food first and foremost, it fell to Juri to kickstart the actual conversation, starting with an expository preamble about where she’d been getting her intelligence. While Nadia got the impression that her rival might be hyping herself up a little, she paid attention to what Juri had to say, and it sounded like she’d identified a strong candidate for the Guardian of the Twilight Forest. In the end it was just a guess, but it sounded plausible enough, and it wasn’t like Nadia could offer any better alternatives.

While the feral quenched the flames dancing across her tongue with beer, Geralt reminded her of Blackwater Bay, even if he fumbled the name slightly. Nadia remembered seeing a giant bird, but like the rest of the shipgirls involved in that battle her focus had been on the water. Geralt had been the one to get up close and personal with it, and if he concluded that the two birds must be different, she trusted him. Blackwater Bay was a long, long way from the Twilight Forest, after all, and she couldn’t imagine that Blue Team had unwittingly dealt with another region’s Guardian on the way to confront the Deep Blue Seaside’s own.

Nadia turned her mind toward what she herself had learned during her time here. Truth be told, as much as it galled her, she hadn’t done as well as her rival. The bits and pieces she’d found didn’t add up to any definite conclusions, and she’d been so focused on her duties for Bancho Sushi that she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for this. Thankfully Geralt bought her some time to put it all together with his report about a local counterfeiting operation, which honestly didn’t concern her all that much. The Mafia was always getting up to something or another, and unlike the Medicis they were easy enough to deal with.

During Geralt’s explanation one more friendly face showed up, belonging to Nadia’s friend Therion. The two thieves had always gotten along well, despite their very different personalities. Together they formed a classic comedy duo, though they did their best work together on the battlefield. Out of the two of them Therion was the better burglar, but unlike with his friend Primrose Nadia had never felt jealous of him, and after winning Connected Climbing Chaos together the two were officially thick as thieves. She waved and gave Therion a warm smile.

Once the others finished, Nadia began. “Well, when it comes to Guardians, I got nothin’. But I did hear about Limsa. The other day I actually sailed over myself to see how they’re doing. And yeah, sounds like it’s been a real shipshow. Met up with my friend Heinrich, you know, from the navy? She told me everything, and it’s not the Abyssals again, either. Apparently there’s this big boat that shows up and literally shoots people into the city that go around attacking everyone they see, civilians and shipgirls alike. And get this, Heinrich heard that this huge, hulking lady consul showed up the day it all started. That must be I! A witness said she…killed Admiral Merlwyb.” With that, Nadia’s excited tone quickly tapered off. She hadn’t really gotten to know the lady during her time in Limsa, but she seemed like a capable and well-liked leader. “Guess they’ve been having a hell of a time coordinating city defense without her.” She sighed. “Anyway, these regions all have two consuls, right? So that’s one, actively going after Limsa Lominscuttle Town. The other…I dunno. I hope it’s not our fault…”

Nadia scrunched her brows together, then lifted a cluster of sea grapes to her lips. When she crushed the soft, succulent pods between her teeth, an umami taste filled her mouth. “I also checked out a place called the Tower of Barbs. Seemed like we could get pretty good rewards there if we fought hard. Visited that Argentum barge thing again, and saw Wumpa Island. Nothing much to say about ‘em.” Getting bored, she turned her attention toward Bancho. The Hot Pepper Tuna had been incredible, but for a hyperactive gal like Nadia one sushi dish was never enough. “Hey boss, can I get a Fried Onion Cuttlefish? Sounds like somethin’ that would ten-tickle my fancy.”

“Sure, but this one’s coming out of your salary,” he told her.

Down at the dockside storehouse where the Yokohama Trading Company employees were wrapping up work for the day, one of the side doors burst open suddenly as a man got thrown through and left sprawled out on the creaky boards. It was the man who’d been handling order fulfillment inside the building up at the counter, forking over the deliveries and their associated rebates As he lay there, groaning, a handful of other employees filed out with stony faces and deliberate steps, quickly forming a makeshift perimeter to discreetly passers-by away. That included Captain Falcon, who happened to be tricking nearby. “Hey, delivery boy! Scram!” one of the men barked, arms crossed. “We’re working here, so go fool around somewhere else!”

After another moment, an imposing man in a white suit over a gold-embroidered shirt stepped out. He had side-parted black hair, a soul patch, and a leering grimace. Though somewhat heavy-set, he possessed obvious strength and carried himself with confident authority. If Falcon managed to catch a glimpse of him as he made himself scarce, he would recognize this man based on the description given to him by Zhao: Mabuchi, a man with whom the owner of You Tian evidently had some history. Falcon wouldn’t get much more than that, though, since this group seemed very eager to make sure those in the vicinity all minded their own business. Even the buyers here to do business quietly turned away and shuffled off, leaving Mabuchi and his cohort to themselves.

“You idiot,” the man was snarling. “Just blow the lid on the whole operation, will you? This place isn’t some market stall, and we don’t take orders here, let alone mouth off about our system to strangers! Since you’re so eager to get chummy, maybe we oughta give a little back to the sharks to thank ‘em for all their fins.” He turned to one of the other workers, glowering. “And you, my clumsy little friend. Dropped a couple pons, huh? So nice of that same stranger to help you out…only, you didn’t think to double-check what he handed you, and now the cash is gone so we can’t know for sure. The hell do I pay you for!? If word gets out, our business is done for.”

Mabuchi seemed to be on the verge of blowing his lid, but after taking a deep breath through his teeth, the boss seemed to calm himself down. “Ah, well. Luckily, I’ve got bigger fish to fry. After tonight, things are gonna change around here. That so-called Mafia of cartoon villains will be history, along with anyone else in our way.”

At that moment, the lookout posted by the ocean came running over. “Boss! It’s coming!”

A nasty smile spread over Mabuchi’s face. “Speak of the devil. Get ready, boys.” His employees scrambled to make preparations of some sort. When the gangster stepped back into the storehouse, one of his underlings presented him with his signature weapon, a fearsome guan dao. Mabuchi took it in his hands and ran his thumb along the polearm’s gleaming blade. “Things are about to get interesting.”

Sandswept Sky: Skyworld

@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @Yankee @Double @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

While Sectonia confronted Edward and his forces at one of the Ivory Citadel’s towers, Uriel descended on the other like a hawk on a rabbit, swooping down with such speed that none of its horrific defenders had the slightest chance of stopping her. In a streak of holy light she slammed into the ballista, aiming to sever the knotted black cord used to propel the giant skewers through the air, but her Dawnbreaker sword fell just short as a the corruption drove a heavily-armored Angel Champion to interpose himself in her path, sacrificing himself to momentarily save the ballista and buy the others time. Around her, constructs, Affinities, and infected archers -some so far gone that they were little more than black mounds with bows- readied themselves for a counterattack. Realizing what had happened as her momentum came to a sudden halt, her blade wedged in her former comrade’s body, Uriel shook her head with a morose click of her tongue.

“Sorry, brother.”

Uriel kicked off him with a flip that freed her blade with one mighty yank, spattering burning corruption on the stone below as the champion toppled backward into the ballista, his stab wound smoldering with the light of dawn. She dropped into the squad of Affinities, landing on one whose head she crushed beneath her heel. Her blade cleaved through another’s leg in a fiery arc, dropping it to one knee, and she wheeled around to slash the polearm of a third in two. With its defense broken, it was powerless to resist as Uriel launched it with an upward slash, then hopped up to carve it in half with an overhead swing. “Foul creatures.” A fourth Affinity attempted to stab her in the back, but Uriel bent backward as if doing the limbo, her wings spread wide. Upside-down, she sent the polearm flying with an upward knee, then plunged her blade through the false angel’s chest and executed a backflip kick to send it stumbling. It bumbled into the fifth and final Affinity, knocking both against the battlement behind them, only for Uriel to bull forward and drive the sword through both of them at once.

As the four corrupted archers nocked their arrows, Uriel whirled around, both dying Affinities still on her blade to act as living shields. Once the arrows finished one off, she kicked the second off her sword with such force that it flew right into one of the archers, sending both sprawling, and the next second the fourth enemy’s weapon fell into her waiting grasp for her to hurl at another archer like a javelin, piercing its body with such force that it tumbled over the tower’s edge. That gave her just enough time to dodge away from the massive slam of a corrupted construct’s stone bludgeon, flattening the crippled Affinity in the process. “Hmph!” Uriel aimed a fiery slash at its wrist to shear through the pitch-black tentacles that operated the construct’s hand, then began to accelerate. She darted around the juggernaut, landing lightning-fast blows that built up searing sunlight. It whipped around with a mighty swing but just missed Uriel as she vaulted overhead, landing on its shoulders just as two more sludgy arrows hit the construct’s chest. “Begone.” A final cleave against the golem’s head triggered Dawnbreaker’s effect, and Uriel leaped clear as the construct exploded in a burst of glittering flame.

That left two archers, another construct, the ballista itself, and the champion as he staggered to his feet, greatsword in hand. Uriel sprinted forward, then slid on her knees beneath the champion’s unstoppable horizontal cleave. That put her directly in the path of an archer’s arrow, but with a swipe of her hand she destroyed the projectile in a burst of gold. She sprang to her feet and retaliated with some magic of her own, a spread-shot of golden stakes that pinned the archer to the battlement behind it and then blew both to smithereens in a blast of holy light. By that time the other construct finished covering its bludgeon with corruption, creating a huge bat spiked with yellow crystals, and it attacked alongside the champion. Uriel sidestepped the overhead slash from the latter, then leaped above a swing from the former. The corruption in the golem festered in its torso like a pot, with its head as lid, so she dropped with a plunging attack to sink her blade deep into the construct’s neck so the Dawnbreaker’s flames could eat away at its insides. She didn’t have enough time to finish it off like this, but she didn’t need to; the minions of the corrupted had already demonstrated total ignorance of the concept of friendly fire, so she could predict what would happen next

She waited for the angel champion to attack, then perfectly timed her dodge away. Aiming for her, her foe slammed his sword into the golem at full force, smashing a hole in its torso that allowed the corruption to flop out. Uriel moved quickly, attacking as many times as possible to build up to a fiery explosion and finish the second golem off. With just two enemies left, she took a second to look around, only to find nothing in the spot where she saw the archer last, and realize that it must have moved when she wasn’t looking. The next instant an arrow slammed into her hip, eliciting a pained grunt as she glared in the direction of the many-eyed archer, but by then the champion was attacking again. Uriel took flight, ripping off the compromised section of her armor as she did, then divebombed the archer to prevent that happening again. Only then did she realize her second mistake: that her maneuver put her directly in front of the ballista’s business end, and to her surprise the corruption-covered siege engine seemed to be operating on its own.

Luckily it wasn’t operating in cohesion with the champion.

The huge angel charged to unleash a massive downward thrust, and Uriel adjusted a few feet to the right. She hopped up in the nick of time and landed on the greatsword just after its tip pierced the ground, then ran up the flat of the blade to deliver a dropkick that knocked the top-heavy angel back once more. This time it fell against the ballista’s barbed bolt, which pierced through its chest. The corruption began to bond with itself, leaving both entities immobilized. Heart racing, Uriel exhaled deeply as she stood up straight. “Vile pestilence,” she spat. “Let us be rid of you.”

She darted forward, slicing with her Dawnbreaker again and again. The champion tried to fight, and the ballista tried to fire, but neither could touch her. As the daylight scars accumulated, the corruption itself seemed to cry out, until with a final flip Uriel hurled a handful of light stakes into the champion’s chest. They burst with a brilliant flash, and the Dawnbreaker effect caused a chain reaction, triggering another, even bigger explosion that destroyed both champion and ballista completely. “What a waste,” Uriel complained, looking to the skies. “Lady Palutena?” She glanced over at the other tower, noticing the short work Sectonia had made of it. “The ballistae are down, and the skies are clear.”

By the time Edward’s explosive trap destroyed the towers, the Hellguard’s captain was already gone.

Within the Ivory Citadel, though, the fighting had reached its peak. The angels and their leaders mowed through the corrupted grunts easily enough, and managed to persevere against both sycophants and ayfids despite the greater challenge, but when it came to the strongest Laguna in the area only the cream of the crop would suffice. Though Edelgard possessed great strength and durability, the Beloved she faced off against wielded its own axe with still more terrifying might, unleashing enormous swings that took advantage of the princess’s one weakness: her short stature and lackluster reach. At just 5’2”, she stood at just a fraction of the Beloved’s height, after all, and when it used a grab attack the doll-faced monster could pick her up like a child’s plaything. Worse still, it possessed the power to summon meteor showers against Edelgard and her angelic squad, hammering entire areas with magic at once to thin their racks. Still, if anyone could fell a mountain like this, it was the Flame Emperor. If she could get through the armor on its back, the large red pustule beneath its marble shell could be its downfall.

Midna and Pit found similarly staunch opposition in the form of Belief. Unlike its counterpart elsewhere in the Ivory Citadel, this Laguna monstrosity did not fight like a human at all. It wielded its snakelike whip arm with bestial ferocity, and when the cherubic faces on its front opened up, it revealed a toothy mouth with a spiked tongue that served as another, even more dangerous lash, and it could spit sticky green slime. It would happily use its arm to hurl chunks of rubble, blobs of corruption, or its own allies, while if it managed to constrict an enemy it could drain health via contact alone. Its opponents made for a potent combination, however, and if they could keep pace with its surprising speed victory was not out of the question.

As Palutena’s army worked through the Ivory Citadel, leaving its once-hallowed halls stained but silent, the second sky island in the corrupted chain began to stir. Once known as Citronpool Harbor, it had been a thriving skyport before the corruption, but now only voiceless horrors shambled through its blighted streets–and labored in its twisted shipyards.

Forbidden Kingdom: Meridi-at-Han

Level 8 Goldlewis (84/80) Level 1 Grimm (3/10)
@Yankee @Archmage MC @Drifting Pollen
Word Count: Between 1250 and 3000

After welcoming Kayna and Primrose to his table, Goldlewis kept things light and casual, splitting his attention between the lightshow down below and his guests. Even with important things to talk about in her absence, Goldlewis had no intention of being rude or rushing the monster rider through her meal, so he did his best to be his typical genial self. Luckily Kayna was very outgoing and easy to talk to, telling the others all about her exploits with exotic creatures throughout the region, as well as interesting sights both within and beyond Meridi-at-han. For the most part, in fact, she only stopped talking when eating, so it didn’t take much effort from Goldlewis to keep the dead air filled. With her help, it turned out to be quite the pleasant little interlude. Her enthusiastic descriptions of various monsters and keen speculations about their behaviors outlasted several plates full of food, but just as Kayna was starting to seem like a bottomless pit, she finally hit her limit and rose from her seat without any further ado.

Goldlewis returned her smile as the young woman bid the others farewell and took off. Seeing a youngster who wore her heart on her sleeve so earnestly filled him with a sort of vicarious joy. With her departure, however, the three Seekers could finally delve into the topic that brought them to the plateau city to begin with: their investigation of the surrounding regions and the high-priority targets therein. The veteran leaned back in his chair as he combed his wind-teased pompadour back into shape, discreetly scanning the tavern as he did. With the sun’s descent behind the horizon, night was setting in, so there weren’t that many more customers hanging around, and none who remained seemed to have any particular interest in Goldlewis or the others. It looked like the three of them were in the clear.

This impromptu meeting didn’t need much preamble–everyone knew why they were here. Primrose went first, offering what she’d managed to glean from the people of -and travelers to- this city. Her findings included several consuls, more details about nearby cities, and even the leadership of Esaka. As she reported one juicy tidbit after another, Goldlewis couldn’t help but be impressed. This dancer certainly had a way with people. Her discoveries almost completely eclipsed his own, since she managed to identify not just Esaka but the legendary quartet who held power there. Given his past experiences, Goldlewis couldn’t help but assume that any big city had consuls pulling the strings, if not outright ruling themselves. Were the Seekers looking at another Midgar situation, where the Guardian lay hidden in -or beneath- the region’s largest city? Then again, maybe that honor belonged to Shinjuku to the south, so he couldn’t be certain.

“I heard mostly the same stuff, but I also caught wind of the Frozen Highlands’ Guardian out west, or so it seems. They say there’s an ornery feller who he wanders the snowy wastes spoilin’ for fights, and he ain’t ever lost ‘cause he’s downright invincible. Don’t matter if it’s blades, bullets, or magic, the sonuvabitch just shrugs it off and keeps on sluggin’. I know all the Guardians y’all fought have been big ol’ monsters so far, but what better Guardian than one who’s invincible?” He stroked his whiskers, eyes narrowing. “Course, that presents somethin’ of a problem for us in an’ of itself, I reckon.”

It sounded like Primrose hadn’t fared much better than himself when it came to the City That Never Was, but the tale she told about the Transmission made it seem even scarier. That place would be a tough nut to crack, so hopefully the eggheads aboard the Avenger figured something out.

Before Roland could get into what he learned, a strange phenomenon began to actively disrupt the conversation. For some time now there had been intermittent rumbles, causing ripples in customers’ cups and slight clatter among the plates and silverware, but the shakes had been so minor that Goldlewis dismissed them as nothing worth worrying about. Now, though, the tremors had grown more frequent and much more intense, enough to be felt every other second. Confused and a little worried, the veteran rose to his feet, looking around for a source of the disturbance. This spot overlooking the market district afforded him a great view of the city center, but try as he might he couldn’t see any plausible explanation. “Some kinda earthquake?” he muttered.

After a moment, lights and sounds brought his eyes to the big top of the Grimm Troupe. Their tent had been ghoulish throughout the ongoing show, the frenzied flames and swooping shadows cavorting like demons from hell, stirred to madness by a wild symphony of unknown instruments played with frightful strength. It almost seemed like the swelling performance mirrored the intensification of the shockwaves, and suddenly Goldlewis recalled the ominous whispers about the Grimm Troupe portending disaster.

Apparently a number of civilians, alarmed by the tremors, had made that connection too, and the city guards seemingly agreed. Goldlewis could see that a number of them had gathered near the tent, prepared to charge into the chaos and bring the troupe’s act to a stop. But before they could intercede, disaster struck–only, it seemed to have struck the Troupe itself, for their big top was on fire. The dance of scarlet flames stopped cold, and the music vanished with startling suddenness, quickly replaced by the pandemonium of people yelling, shoving, and running for their lives. Something had gone horribly wrong.

“Hmph,” Goldlewis grunted, reaching down. With one giant mitt he seized the chain attached to the massive coffin by the table, which he hefted over his shoulder. When he knocked on its lid, it cracked open just wide enough to admit a blue glow and an elongated arm that reached down and laid enough zenny on the table to cover the veteran’s meal. “It’s always something, ain’t it,” he groused. “Let's lend ‘em a hand.”

As he gathered himself to vault over the railing, however, Goldlewis noticed something. Even after the performance of the Grimm Troupe stopped, the ground continued to shake, the tremors growing louder and stronger still. That realization gave him pause as he looked around again. If the bugs weren't to blame for the disturbance, who was…?

After a moment, the noisy report of an instrument rang out over the chaos, but it didn’t belong to the Troupe. Instead it was the horn of the city guard, resounding from the direction of the southern gate. When Goldlewis turned to look, he was shocked to see a giant shape rising above the buildings, dimly silhouetted against the purple clouds by the last rays of the setting sun. “What in tarnation!?” It was a head, and it belonged to an ape of immense size, a three-story giant with sharp teeth, grown fur, and a disproportionately large head. With one mighty heave George climbed into Meridi-at-han, hitting the ground with a tremendous slam that shook foundations, rattled windows, and tore screams from the crowds of citizens as panic filled the streets. As if that wasn’t enough, two more giant monsters were scaling the plateau city even now: the green-scaled crocodilian Lizzie and a fang-toothed blue wolf, Ralph. All three began to go on a rampage, pounding the buildings around them and swatting or even eating civilians. Luckily, most of the horrified circus-goers were already out of the burning tent by now, and as they fled the guards rushed over to try and keep the monsters busy.

As the crowd scattered, Grimm himself emerged from the burning tent at a leisurely pace. With the real culprits behind the quake revealed, the Troupe had been all but forgotten, and the immolation of their tent was a foregone conclusion. Brumm and the others were already scrambling to move the wagons beyond the reach of the hungry tongues of flame. Unfortunately for the witch, protecting the Procession of Shadows and the Nightmare Lantern within was the Troupe’s number-one priority, more important than their tent, their show, their guests, or even their own lives. In addition to the weevil-like Grimmstead that pulled it, three more bugs stood between the scheming sorceress and her prize, all shrouded in volumes of black cloth. Two wielded curved swords and one a mace, but all bore torches of scarlet flame.

Behind Grimm, meanwhile, followed a crowd of his Grimmkin, torches in hand, and his scarlet gaze fixed on the rampaging monsters. After a moment black claw extended from beneath his cloak, and the ringmaster snapped his fingers.

”Let us give our new guests a warm welcome.”

At his razor-sharp whisper the Grimmkin took flight, loosed upon the waking world like vengeful spirits. They spread out over the monsters’ heads, well our of reach, and hurled scarlet fireballs. Grimm himself bowed toward the giant ape, then threw open his cloak. A handful of firebats flew through the dusk to explode against George’s hairy back, setting him alight. But when the ape wheeled around with an angry bellow, he found no trace of whoever burned him. George beat his chest, and his roar shook the city.

Of course, by the time Grimm took the field, the Seekers were already in motion. Goldlewis unleashed a small tremor of his own as he landed on the terrace beneath the tavern, his coffin slung over his back. The big top was beyond saving, but the heroes could still fight for the people. “Alrighty then, folks,” he called to the others. In addition to Grimm Troupe and the Sun Guard, he found a number of armed adventurers trickling in from throughout the city to aid in Meridi-at-han’s defense. Seeing Ralph nearby, he took off running. “Let’s take ‘em out!”